His wife, who took in washing to do at home, was hard at work ironing when the door opened and her husband entered. A frown was on his face, and he was evidently in ill temper.
A cat, the family pet, being in his way, he kicked her brutally, and the poor animal, moaning piteously, fled in wild dismay.
“Get out of the way, you beast!” he said, angrily.
“Don’t kick poor Topsy!” pleaded his wife. “I am afraid you have hurt the poor little thing.”
“Keep her out of my way, then,” growled Barclay. “I hate cats. You must be a fool to keep one.”
“The children love poor Topsy, James,” said his wife.
“I suppose you’d keep a snake for them, if they liked it.”
“A kitten is very different from a snake.”
“I shall kill it some time if it gets in my way. Have you got anything to eat in the house?”
Mrs. Barclay paused in her work long enough to get some bread and meat from the pantry, which she set before her husband.