Solomon had disliked her at sight. Ever
since he had bought the house in Ellmington he had been trying to
drive her from the premises, but stay away she would not. Not all
the missiles in existence could convince her that his house was not
a desirable place of abode. And she was a constant vexation and
annoyance.
She jumped from the fence plump into the middle of newly planted
flower-beds; she filled the haymow with kittens; she asked all her
friends to the barn, where she gave elaborate musical parties at
hours more fashionably late than were tolerated in Ellmington.
Whenever she had indigestion she ate off the tops of the choicest
green things that grew in the garden; but when her appetite was good
she caught and devoured his young chickens.
Moreover, when at bay she frightened him. Once he had cornered the
spitting creature in a stall. Claws out, tail big, fur all on end,
she had leaped straight at his head, which he ducked, and, landing
squarely upon it, had steadied herself there for a moment with
sharp, protruding claws; thence she had jumped to a feed-box, thence
to a beam, thence to the mow, from the dusky recesses of which she
had glared at him with big, green, menacing eyes. Not since that
experience, which, in spite of his soft hat, had left certain marks
upon his scalp, had he ever attempted to catch her. Instead, he had
borrowed a gun, and a dozen times had fired at her; but although he
counted himself a fair shot, he had never made even a scant bit of
fur fly from her disreputable back.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25