'Have you ever thought, Hazel,' he said later, sitting down on a log—'have you ever thought of the question of marriage?'
'I ne'er did till Foxy took the chicks.' Edward looked dazed. 'It's like this,' Hazel went on. 'Father (he's a rum 'un, is father!), he says he'll drown Foxy if she takes another.'
'Who is Foxy?'
'Oh! Fancy you not knowing Foxy! Her's my little cub. Pretty! you ne'er saw anything so pretty.'
Edward thought he had.
'But she canna get used to folks' ways.' (This was a new point of view to Edward.) 'She'm a fox, and she can't be no other. And I'd liefer she'd be a fox.'
'Foxes are very mischievous,' Edward said mildly.
'Mischievous!' Hazel flamed on him like a little thunderstorm. 'Mischievous! And who made 'em mischievous, I'd like to know? They didna make theirselves.'
'God made them,' Edward said simply.
'What for did He, if He didna like 'em when they were done?'