Susan took the path that led to the meadow by the waterside, resolved to go by herself, and take leave of her innocent favourite. But she did not pass by unperceived. Her little brothers were watching for her return, and, as soon as they saw her, they ran after her, and overtook her as she reached the meadow.
“What did that good lady want with you?” cried William; but, looking up in his sister’s face, he saw tears in her eyes, and he was silent, and walked on quietly. Susan saw her lamb by the water-side. “Who are those two men?” said William. “What are they going to do with Daisy?” The two men were Attorney Case and the butcher. The butcher was feeling whether the lamb was fat.
Susan sat down upon the bank in silent sorrow; her little brothers ran up to the butcher, and demanded whether he was going to do any harm to the lamb. The butcher did not answer, but the attorney replied, “It is not your sister’s lamb any longer; it’s mine—mine to all intents and purposes.”
“Yours!” cried the children, with terror; “and will you kill it?”
“That’s the butcher’s business.”
The little boys now burst into piercing lamentations. They pushed away the butcher’s hand; they threw their arms round the neck of the lamb; they kissed its forehead—it bleated. “It will not bleat to-morrow!” said William, and he wept bitterly. The butcher looked aside, and hastily rubbed his eyes with the corner of his blue apron.
The attorney stood unmoved; he pulled up the head of the lamb, which had just stooped to crop a mouthful of clover. “I have no time to waste,” said he; “butcher, you’ll account with me. If it’s fat—the sooner the better. I’ve no more to say.” And he walked off, deaf to the prayers of the poor children.
As soon as the attorney was out of sight, Susan rose from the bank where she was seated, came up to her lamb, and stooped to gather some of the fresh dewy trefoil, to let it eat out of her hand for the last time. Poor Daisy licked her well known hand.
“Now, let us go,” said Susan.
“I’ll wait as long as you please,” said the butcher. Susan thanked him, but walked away quickly, without looking again at her lamb. Her little brothers begged the man to stay a few minutes, for they had gathered a handful of blue speedwell and yellow crowsfoot, and they were decking the poor animal. As it followed the boys through the village, the children collected as they passed, and the butcher’s own son was amongst the number. Susan’s steadiness about the bad shilling was full in this boy’s memory; it had saved him a beating. He went directly to his father to beg the life of Susan’s lamb.