“He drove them out.”
“Did he stone them, or beat them?”
“Oh no. He was gentle as a child towards them.”
“You are certainly jesting.”
“Not I. Friend Barton has not forgotten that his pigs were in my cornfield yesterday, and that I turned them out without hurting a hair of one of them. Now, suppose I had got angry and beaten his pigs, what do you think the result would have been? Why, it is much more than probable that one or both of our fine cows would have been at this moment in the condition of Mr. Mellon's old Brindle.”
“I wish you wouldn't say anything more about old Brindle,” said Mrs. Gray, trying to laugh, while her face grew red in spite of her efforts to keep down her feelings.
“Well, I won't, Sally, if it worries you. But it is such a good illustration that I can't help using it sometimes.”
“I am glad he didn't hurt the cows,” said Mrs. Gray, after a pause.
“And so am I, Sally. Glad on more than one account. It shows that he has made an effort to keep down his hasty, irritable temper—and if he can do that, it will be a favour conferred on the whole neighbourhood, for almost every one complains, at times, of this fault in his character.”
“It is certainly the best policy, to keep fair weather with him,” Mrs. Gray remarked, “for a man of his temper could annoy us a good deal.”