“You don't understand me, my dear Madam,” said Kingsley quickly. “I meant that it was no reason why you should continue to treat him so after he has suffered and is sorry. Of course you have got to control Bud.”
She softened and went on.
“Wal it was mighty nigh a year befo' Bud paid any mo' 'tention to the cat. The full moon quit 'fectin' him—he even quit eatin' biscuits. Then the spell commenced to come onct a year an' he cu'dn't pass over blackberry winter to save his life. Mind you he never sed anything to me about it, but one day he ups an' gits choked on a chicken gizzerd an' coughs an' wheezes an' goes on so like a fool that I ups with the cheer an' comes down on his head a-thinkin' I'd make him cough it up. I mout a bin a little riled an' hit harder'n I orter, but I didn't mean anything by it, an' he did cough it up on my clean floor, an' I'm willin' to say agin' I was a little hasty, that's true, in callin' him a lop-sided son of a pigeon-toed monkey, for Bud riled me mighty. But what you reckin he done?”
She shook her finger in his face again. Bud tried to run again.
“You kno' you done it, Bud Billins—I followed you an' listened when you tuck up the cat an' you whispered in the cat's year that your spliced an' wedded wife was a—a—she devil!”
“It tuck two plates that time, Mister Kingsley—that's the time Bud didn't draw no pay fur two weeks.
“Wal, that was over a year ago, an' Bud he's been a behavin' mighty well, untwell this mornin'. It's true he didn't say much, but he sed 'nuff fur me to see ther spell was acomin' on an' I'd better bust it up befo' it got into his blood an' sot 'im to cultivate the company of the cat. I seed I had to check the disease afore it got too strong, fur I seed Bud was tryin' honestly to taper off with them spells an' shake with the cat if he cu'd, so when he kinder snorted a little this mornin' because he didn't have but one aig an' then kinder began to look aroun' as if he was thinkin' of mice, I busted a saucer over his head an' fotched 'im too, grateful la'k an' happy, to be hisse'f agin. I think he's nearly c'wored an' I'm mighty glad you is, Bud Billins, fur it's costin' a lot of mighty good crockery to c'wore you.
“Now you all jes' lem'me 'lone, Mister Kingsley—lem'me manage Bud. He's slo' mouthed as I'm tellin' you, but he's gittin' over them spells an' I'm gwinter c'wore him if I hafter go into the queensware bus'ness on my own hook. Now, Bud Billins, you jes' go in there now an' go to tendin' to that slubbin' machine, an' don't you so much as look at a cat twixt now an' next Christmas.”
Bud needed no further admonition. He bolted for the door and was soon silently at work.