Ignoring him, Jack said, addressing his father: "I nearly caught a snake up the road. Gee! But he was a dandy."
"He had stripes," said Doris solemnly.
"He wiggled," asserted little Catharine, and her eyes became very round.
"What kind was he, papa?" inquired Jack.
"Oh, just a snake," replied Greensleeve vaguely.
The eager faces of the children clouded with disappointment; dawning expectancy faded; it was the old, old tragedy of bread desired, of the stone offered.
"I liked that snake," muttered Jack. "I wanted to keep him for a pet. I wanted to know what kind he was. He seemed very friendly."
"Next time," suggested Ledlie, "you pet him on the head with a rock."
"What?"
"Snakes is no good. There's pizen into 'em. You kill every one you see an' don't ask questions."