clambering painfully out of the grave. Sam followed him.
'Time for a quick 'un?' asked Sam.
'Who pays?'
'We goes Dutch.'
'Humph!' snorted Albert, but he quickened his pace, nevertheless, as he shambled towards the open door of "The Two Pheasants".
But his thirst was not to be slaked immediately, for, directly in his path, stood Dotty Harmer.
'I shan't keep you,' said Dotty briskly, eyeing the pair. 'But I want you to let me know if you hear of anyone wanting a kitten.'
'Well, now miss—' began Albert.
'I know you have a cat,' cut in Dotty. Her tone implied, rightly, that she felt sorry for it. She looked at Sam Curdle with distaste.
'And I know you haven't room for one in the caravan,' she told him dismissively. 'The thing is, I have five to dispose of.'
Sam's face lit up.
'I'd be pleased to drown 'em for you, miss. Any time.'
Dotty looked at him sharply.
'Out of the question. They are far too big to drown.'
'You wouldn't catch 'em, anyway,' gloomed Albert. 'Them wild cats never gets caught. Where've you got 'em?'
Dotty told him.
'Never get 'em out o' there,' said Albert, with relish. 'Why, I recollect that there was a widder woman over Lulling Woods way who had two - just two, mark you - livin' in her logs, and within the year she'd got eighteen kittens!'
'That's why I intend to tame them,' said Dotty firmly. 'I am going to get the mother cat spayed as soon as she has confidence in me.'
'You'll be lucky!' growled Albert. 'Best by far have a cat shoot and get done with the lot.'
'Disgraceful!' snapped Dotty.
'You won't never tame 'em, miss,' Sam said, hoping for five shillings, if not by drowning, then by a little erratic marksmanship.
'I should set a dog on 'em,' advised Albert. 'Rout 'em out, like, and then shoot 'em as they run away.'
'Have you thought,' asked Dotty severely, 'that they might simply be maimed, and not killed outright?'
'They'd die eventual,' said Albert casually.
'I am not proposing to harm these kittens, in any way whatsoever,' said Dotty, now dangerously calm. 'I shall do my best to get them tame enough to be accepted into good homes. Good homes!' she repeated firmly.
'I am on my way to Mrs Young to see if she will be able to have one,' she added, nodding to one of the five houses behind the chestnut avenue. 'All I wanted to ask you was to let me know if you hear of anyone needing a kitten.'
'Right, miss,' said Albert with rare deference. His dirty finger rose of its own volition to his greasy cap. Plain potty-Miss Harmer was, and no doubt about it-but she was still gentry, and some innate, long-stifled instinct to acknowledge the fact had twitched Albert's hand to its unaccustomed position.
'Yes, miss,' added Sam meekly. 'I'll bear it in mind, miss.'
They entered "The Two Pheasants" for their long awaited drink, the kittens already forgotten.
But Dotty, striding purposefully towards Joan Young's house, seethed with indignation.
'Drowning! Shooting! Setting a dog on them! A pity those two have never heard of reverence for life. I should like to have introduced them to Albert Schweitzer.'
She thought again.
'Or better still, my dear father. He'd have given them the horse-whipping they deserve!'
She reached the Youngs' gate.
'How I do hate cruelty!' said Dotty aloud, making for the front door.
Joan Young was the wife of a local architect. Her sister Ruth, who was lunching with her that day, was married to Doctor Lovell who, at that moment, was attending a cantankerous old bachelor of ninety-two to the south of Lulling.
Lunch was set in the large sunny kitchen. Paul Young was already at the table, waiting impatiently with the voracious hunger of a young schoolboy for the chicken which had just been lifted from the oven.
Opposite him, in his own old high chair, sat his baby cousin Mary banging lustily with her spoon.
'What's that?' asked Paul, as the bell of the front door rang sharply.
'Wozzat?' echoed his cousin, not caring particularly, but glad to try out a new
'Time for a quick 'un?' asked Sam.
'Who pays?'
'We goes Dutch.'
'Humph!' snorted Albert, but he quickened his pace, nevertheless, as he shambled towards the open door of "The Two Pheasants".
But his thirst was not to be slaked immediately, for, directly in his path, stood Dotty Harmer.
'I shan't keep you,' said Dotty briskly, eyeing the pair. 'But I want you to let me know if you hear of anyone wanting a kitten.'
'Well, now miss—' began Albert.
'I know you have a cat,' cut in Dotty. Her tone implied, rightly, that she felt sorry for it. She looked at Sam Curdle with distaste.
'And I know you haven't room for one in the caravan,' she told him dismissively. 'The thing is, I have five to dispose of.'
Sam's face lit up.
'I'd be pleased to drown 'em for you, miss. Any time.'
Dotty looked at him sharply.
'Out of the question. They are far too big to drown.'
'You wouldn't catch 'em, anyway,' gloomed Albert. 'Them wild cats never gets caught. Where've you got 'em?'
Dotty told him.
'Never get 'em out o' there,' said Albert, with relish. 'Why, I recollect that there was a widder woman over Lulling Woods way who had two - just two, mark you - livin' in her logs, and within the year she'd got eighteen kittens!'
'That's why I intend to tame them,' said Dotty firmly. 'I am going to get the mother cat spayed as soon as she has confidence in me.'
'You'll be lucky!' growled Albert. 'Best by far have a cat shoot and get done with the lot.'
'Disgraceful!' snapped Dotty.
'You won't never tame 'em, miss,' Sam said, hoping for five shillings, if not by drowning, then by a little erratic marksmanship.
'I should set a dog on 'em,' advised Albert. 'Rout 'em out, like, and then shoot 'em as they run away.'
'Have you thought,' asked Dotty severely, 'that they might simply be maimed, and not killed outright?'
'They'd die eventual,' said Albert casually.
'I am not proposing to harm these kittens, in any way whatsoever,' said Dotty, now dangerously calm. 'I shall do my best to get them tame enough to be accepted into good homes. Good homes!' she repeated firmly.
'I am on my way to Mrs Young to see if she will be able to have one,' she added, nodding to one of the five houses behind the chestnut avenue. 'All I wanted to ask you was to let me know if you hear of anyone needing a kitten.'
'Right, miss,' said Albert with rare deference. His dirty finger rose of its own volition to his greasy cap. Plain potty-Miss Harmer was, and no doubt about it-but she was still gentry, and some innate, long-stifled instinct to acknowledge the fact had twitched Albert's hand to its unaccustomed position.
'Yes, miss,' added Sam meekly. 'I'll bear it in mind, miss.'
They entered "The Two Pheasants" for their long awaited drink, the kittens already forgotten.
But Dotty, striding purposefully towards Joan Young's house, seethed with indignation.
'Drowning! Shooting! Setting a dog on them! A pity those two have never heard of reverence for life. I should like to have introduced them to Albert Schweitzer.'
She thought again.
'Or better still, my dear father. He'd have given them the horse-whipping they deserve!'
She reached the Youngs' gate.
'How I do hate cruelty!' said Dotty aloud, making for the front door.
Joan Young was the wife of a local architect. Her sister Ruth, who was lunching with her that day, was married to Doctor Lovell who, at that moment, was attending a cantankerous old bachelor of ninety-two to the south of Lulling.
Lunch was set in the large sunny kitchen. Paul Young was already at the table, waiting impatiently with the voracious hunger of a young schoolboy for the chicken which had just been lifted from the oven.
Opposite him, in his own old high chair, sat his baby cousin Mary banging lustily with her spoon.
'What's that?' asked Paul, as the bell of the front door rang sharply.
'Wozzat?' echoed his cousin, not caring particularly, but glad to try out a new
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