The creature even had the impudence to go up and say, "Ba-a-a!" meaning that he wished to be petted for being put to the trouble of losing his temper.
Bingi was stroking him with one hand when I left, and heating his milk with the other.
Once I saw a man beating a lamb. It was a dreadful sight.
However in my ramblings I am forgetting the little house-mother who was building a great roaring fire in the living-room.
"Ah! Prince Fetlar," she said when I trotted in and stood warming myself. "I wondered why you stopped dogging or perhaps I should say ponying my footsteps—— Now we'll play the rising tune," and going to the hall she took a bugle from a hook and began a lovely tune, first soft and low, then high and piercing.
Out on the verandas we heard calls and cries. "Mother don't—— It's too early to get up—— Please a little longer."
Oh! how the bugle shrilled at them—then she sang at the top of her lungs,
"I can't get 'em up,
I can't get 'em up,