“Why, in course,” Joseph was beginning, when he suddenly broke off.  “What’s the new colt standing in the cart-shed for?”

“Never you mind the new colt—­attend to I!  Have I been a good wife to ’ee, or have I not?”

“In course ye have—­no man need ax for a better.  But why—­”

“Haven’t I worked early and late, and toiled and moiled, and never took a bit o’ pleasure, and never axed ’ee to lay out no money for I?  Bain’t I a-bringin’ up these ’ere pigs by hand for ’ee, Joseph Bold?  And a deal of worry they be.  ’Twasn’t in the marriage contract, I think, as I should bottle-feed sucking-pigs—­was it now, Joseph?  I d’ ‘low parson never thought o’ axin’ me if I were willin’ to do that, but I’ve a-done it for your sake.”

“Well, but what be ye a-drivin’ at?” interrupted the farmer, with a kind of aggrieved bellow, for his wife’s sorrowfully-reproachful tone cut him to the quick.  “What’s it all about?  What be a-complainin’ of?  What d’ye want, woman?  What d’ye want?”

“I want a pet,” returned Mrs. Bold vehemently.  “Here I’ve been a-livin’ wi’ ye all these years, and ye’ve never let me keep so much as a canary bird.  There’s the Willises have gold-fish down to their place, and they be but cottagers; and Mrs. Fripp have got a parrot.  A real beauty he be, what can sing songs and laugh and shout like the children, and swear—­ye’d think t’was Fripp hisself, he do do it so naitral!”

Joseph Bold fairly groaned: 

“Good Lard!  I never did think to hear ’ee talk so voolish—­a sensible body like ye did always use to seem!  Dear heart alive!  Gold-fish!  And a poll parrot!  Well, Mary, I did think as a body o’ your years could content herself wi’ live things as had a bit more sense in ’em nor that.”

“Oh, I dare say,” returned his spouse sarcastically.  “Pigs and sich-like!” giving a little tap to the wriggling, squeaking creature at that moment struggling under her arm, “and chicken and ducks!  Nice pets they be.”

“Upon my word, a man ’ud lose patience to hear you. Pets—­at your time o’ life, wi’ children grown up and married.  Well, if ye want pets, ha’n’t ye had enough of ’em.  Don’t ye have nigh upon a dozen lambs to bring up every spring?”

“’E-es, and where be they now, Joseph?  Where be the lambs as I got up afore light in the frostis and snow to attend to?  Where be they?  Ye know so well as I do as butcher had ’em, every one.  That’s my complaint—­you do never let me keep a thing as isn’t for killin’.  A body’d need a heart o’ stone to stand it.  This ’ere pig—­ye know right well as he’ll be bacon afore this time next year.”

[Illustration:  BLACKBIRD’S INSPIRATION “Here’s my little pet,” she cried jubilantly]

“Then, in the name of furtin have your fancy, woman!  Give it a name, and I’ll get it for ’ee.”

“Ye give me your word, do ye, Joseph?”

“I bain’t a man to break it,” responded the farmer shortly.