“May-be I can help you a little. Don't you remember how angry you were when Mr. Mellon's old brindle got into our garden, and trampled over your lettuce-bed, and how you struck her with the oven-pole, and knocked off one of her horns?”
“But I didn't mean to do that, though.”
“No; but then you were angry, and struck old Brindle with a right good will. And if Mr. Mellon had felt disposed, he might have prosecuted for damages.”
“But she had no business there.”
“Of course not. Neither had our geese any business in Neighbour Barton's yard. But, perhaps, I can help you to another instance, that will be more conclusive, in regard to your doing and saying unreasonable things, when you are angry. You remember the patent churn?”
“Yes; but never mind about that.”
“So you have not forgotten how unreasonable you was about the churn. It wasn't good for anything—you knew it wasn't; and you'd never put a jar of cream into it as long as you lived—that you wouldn't. And yet, on trial, you found that churn the best you had ever used, and you wouldn't part with it on any consideration. So you see, Sally, thai even you can say and do unreasonable things, when you are angry, just as well as Mr. Barton can. Let us then consider him a little, and give him time to get over his angry fit. It will be much better to do so.”
Mrs. Gray saw that her husband was right, but still she felt indignant at the outrage committed on her geese. She did not, however, say anything about suing the shoemaker—for old Brindle's head, from which the horn had been knocked off, was not yet entirely well, and one prosecution very naturally suggested the idea of another. So she took her three fat geese, and after stripping off their feathers, had them prepared for the table.
On the next morning, as Farmer Gray was going along the road, he met the shoemaker, and as they had to pass very near to each other, the farmer smiled, and bowed, and spoke kindly. Mr. Barton looked and felt very uneasy, but Farmer Gray did not seem to remember the unpleasant incident of the day before.
It was about eleven o'clock of the same day that one of Farmer Gray's little boys came running to him, and crying,