(It was only the week before that Mrs. Hopkins had screamed for help on meeting a frog in her larder.)
Mrs. Gerald Fitzgerald had by this time discovered the skeleton. She adjusted her glasses and looked slowly and closely up and down it several times. Then she pronounced in a sepulchral whisper: “Human remains!”
The Outlaws held their breath in their retreat, but a resonant “Hee-haw!” from Maria drew the members of the local Anti-vivisection Society from any further exploring.
“The patient creature,” said the Vicar’s wife brokenly, “seems to be asking our help.”
Maria assumed again her attitude of deceptive meekness.
“We certainly must do something,” said Mrs. Gerald Fitzgerald, “we can’t leave our dear dumb friend to torture. Look at the signs of struggle all around us. Look at its air of suffering. The foul work has evidently already begun. Let’s—let’s take it away with us.”
“On the other hand,” said the Vicar’s wife slowly, “there are the laws of private property to be considered. Mr. Simpkins doubtless purchased this creature and the law will hold it to belong to him.”
“We can buy it from him then,” said Mrs. Gerald Fitzgerald brightly. “That would be a noble work indeed. How much money have we in hand, Mrs. Hopkins?”
“Only threepence-halfpenny,” said Mrs. Hopkins gloomily, “we’ve been having iced cakes lately, you know. They’re more expensive.”
“They cost more than that,” said the Vicar’s wife, “donkeys, I mean. But,” with a flash of inspiration, “we can get up a bazaar for it or a concert for it.”