“'She spakes like a French spy, sure enough,' says Tom; 'and she was missin', I remember, all last Spy-Wednesday.'
“'That's suspicious,' says the squire—'but conviction might be difficult; and I have a fresh idea,' says Botherum.
“''Faith, it won't keep fresh long, this hot weather,' says Tom; 'so your honour had betther make use of it at wanst.'
“'Right,' says Botherum,—'we'll make her subject to the game laws; we'll hunt her,' says he.
“'Ow!—elegant!' says Tom;—'we'll have a brave run out of her.'
“'Meet me at the cross roads,' says the Squire, 'in the morning, and I'll have the hounds ready.'
“'Well, off Tom went home; and he was racking his brain what excuse he could make to the cat for not bringing the shoes; and at last he hit one off, just as he saw her cantering up to him, half-a-mile before he got home.
“'Where's the shoes, Tom?' says she.
“'I have not got them to-day, ma'am,' says he.
“'Is that the way you keep your promise, Tom?' says she;—'I'll tell you what it is, Tom—I'll tare the eyes out o' the childre' if you don't get me shoes.'