Still she lifted it and considered for a moment.
'No,' she thought, 'it's quite light; it can't hurt him. And it won't hurt it either. I'll only put a few nails in,' and out she ran again to the front, where my poor pet was settling down for another nap, hoping, no doubt, that Miss Esmé had gone for good.
By ill-luck, her other pocket held a good piece of stout string. She sat down and quietly tied up the kettle, so that the lid was secure, having first dropped into it enough nails and screws to make a woful clatter, but taking care that no jingle should be heard as yet. It is wonderful how careful a careless child can be if bent on mischief!
Then speaking for once most gently and caressingly to Roughie, who was so surprised that he lay quite still, she fastened the other end of the string to his tail, and round his poor little body too. 'I didn't want his tail to be pulled off,' she said afterwards—fortunately, for his tail might have been badly hurt.
Then when all was ready, she got up cautiously, and walking away a few steps, called Rough very sweetly. But he was rather suspicious; he first got up and stretched himself—there was a faint jingle—poor wee man, he looked behind him—no, Esmé was not there; he moved, more jingle and rattle, again she called, and he, beginning to be frightened, turned towards her, on which the cruel little thing 'shoo'ed' him away. She described it all perfectly. And then the idea must have seized him of escaping by flight from the unseen terror. He ran—of course the noise got worse; he ran faster, and it grew louder—faster still—oh, my poor Roughie!—louder still, Esmé laughing—at first, that is to say—to herself, till his doggy wits began to desert him, and a sort of nightmare agony must have seized him.
And then—too late—the naughty girl saw what she had done.