Sally had the pig that had been promised her killed, cut up, and sold. After a while Chowne suspected that she was still keeping company with Joe. He was very angry, for he felt that he had been done out of the pig on false pretences; so he went off with his wife to stay with Parson Hannaford, and gave out he would not return for a week. On the second evening, however, he suddenly returned, and came bounding in at the door; and sure enough Joe was there, come courting, and to eat his supper with Sally. The housekeeper, hearing the tread of her master, bade Joe fly and get out of his reach. But the back-door was fastened, and Joe, in his alarm, jumped into the copper. Sally put the lid on, and dashed into the passage to meet her master.
"Where's Joe? I'm sure he's here. You've cut too much of my ham to fry for yourself alone. You've drawn too much ale. I'm sure Joe is here!" shouted Chowne, looking about him.
"Deary life, sir!" exclaimed the housekeeper, "I protest! I don't know where he can be. Why, master, you know I gave him up for the sake of the pig."
Chowne's eye wandered about the kitchen, and noticed—what was unusual—the lid on the copper in the adjoining back-kitchen, that served also as laundry.
"Sally," said he, "put some water into the copper to boil. I'm going to dip the pups. They've got the mange."
"Ain't there enough in the kettle, master?"
"No, there is not. Put water into the copper."
Accordingly Sally was forced to fill a can at the pump, and pour water into the copper over her lover, removing for the purpose only a corner of the cover.
"There, master. Do'y let me serve you up some supper, and I'll get the water heated after."