The yard-boy caught it and gave it to the poultry-maid, who held it while Uncle James carefully felt its breast.
"That will do," he said. "Quite a beauty."
The yard-boy took it from the poultry-maid, tied its legs together, cut its throat, and hung it on a nail.
"That drake!" Uncle James proceeded. The same ceremony followed, Uncle James bearing his part in it without any relaxation of his grand manner.
When a turkey-poult had also been executed, he requested the yard-boy to fetch him his gun from the harness-room.
"We must have a pigeon-pie," he observed as he took it.
Beth, in great excitement, stalked him to the orchard, where there was a big pigeon-house covered with ivy. In front of it the pigeons had a good run, enclosed with wire netting when they were shut in; but they were often let out to feed in the fields. The yard-boy now reached up and opened a little door in the side of the house. As he did so he glanced at Uncle James somewhat apprehensively. Uncle James, with a benign countenance, suddenly lifted his gun and fired. The yard-boy dropped.
"What is the matter?" said Uncle James.
The yard-boy gathered himself up with a very red face. "I thought you meant to shoot me, sir."
Uncle James smiled gently. "May I ask when it became customary for gentlemen to shoot yard-boys?" he said.