His return was always greeted with
enthusiasm, and every means were adopted to induce him to stay. His
little whims were carefully studied, his favourite dishes kept in
constant readiness.
"The destination of his goings leaked out at length, and then the two
families quarrelled about him over the fence. My friend accused the
newspaper man of having lured him away. The newspaper man retorted that
the poor creature had come to his door wet and starving, and added that
he would be ashamed to keep an animal merely to ill-treat it. They have
a quarrel about him twice a week on the average. It will probably come
to blows one of these days."
Jephson appeared much surprised by this story. He remained thoughtful
and silent. I asked him if he would like to hear any more, and as he
offered no active opposition I went on. (Maybe he was asleep; that idea
did not occur to me at the time.)
I told him of my grandmother's cat, who, after living a blameless life
for upwards of eleven years, and bringing up a family of something like
sixty-six, not counting those that died in infancy and the water-butt,
took to drink in her old age, and was run over while in a state of
intoxication (oh, the justice of it! ) by a brewer's dray. I have read
in temperance tracts that no dumb animal will touch a drop of alcoholic
liquor.
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