“What upon earth can be the matter with them geese?” said Mrs. Gray, about fifteen minutes afterwards.
“I really cannot tell, unless Neighbour Barton is taking care of them. He threatened to do so, if I didn't yoke them right off.”
“Taking care of them! How taking care of them?”
“As to that, I am quite in the dark. Killing them, perhaps. He said they picked at his pigs' ears, and drove them away when they were eating, and that he wouldn't have it. He wanted me to yoke them right off, but that I could not do, now, as all the hands are busy. So, I suppose, he is engaged in the neighbourly business of taking care of our geese.”
“John! William! run over and see what Mr. Barton is doing with my geese,” said Mrs. Gray, in a quick and anxious tone, to two little boys who were playing near.
The urchins scampered off, well pleased to perform any errand.
“Oh, if he has dared to do anything to my geese, I will never forgive him!” the good wife said, angrily.
“H-u-s-h, Sally! make no rash speeches. It is more than probable that he has killed some two or three of them. But never mind, if he has. He will get over this pet, and be sorry for it.”
“Yes; but what good will his being sorry do me? Will it bring my geese to life?”
“Ah, well, Sally, never mind. Let us wait until we learn what all this disturbance is about.”