'He'll kill
somebody. I can see it in his face.'
"'I want him to kill somebody,' replied my father; 'I want him to kill
burglars.'
"'I don't like to hear you talk like that, Thomas,' answered the mater;
'it's not like you. We've a right to protect our property, but we've no
right to take a fellow human creature's life.'
"'Our fellow human creatures will be all right--so long as they don't
come into our kitchen when they've no business there,' retorted my
father, somewhat testily. 'I'm going to fix up this dog in the scullery,
and if a burglar comes fooling around--well, that's _his_ affair.'
"The old folks quarrelled on and off for about a month over this dog. The
dad thought the mater absurdly sentimental, and the mater thought the dad
unnecessarily vindictive. Meanwhile the dog grew more ferocious-looking
every day.
"One night my mother woke my father up with: 'Thomas, there's a burglar
downstairs, I'm positive. I distinctly heard the kitchen door open.'
"'Oh, well, the dog's got him by now, then,' murmured my father, who had
heard nothing, and was sleepy.
"'Thomas,' replied my mother severely, 'I'm not going to lie here while a
fellow-creature is being murdered by a savage beast. If you won't go
down and save that man's life, I will.'
"'Oh, bother,' said my father, preparing to get up.
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