"Hold jaw! When I'm gone, Jacobina will have no one to feed her. She'll feed herself--will go to every larder, every house in the place--your's best larder, best house;--will come to you oftenest. If your wife attempts to drive her away, scratch her eyes out; if you disturb her, serve you worse than Joe Webster's little boy:--wanted to prevent this-- won't now, d--d if I do!" "But, Corporal, how would it mend the matter to take the devil in-doors?" "Devil!" Don't call names. Did not I tell you, only one Jacobina does not hurt is her master?--make you her master: now d'ye see?" "It is very hard," said Peter grumblingly, "that the only way I can defend myself from this villainous creature is to take her into my house." "Villainous! You ought to be proud of her affection. She returns good for evil--she always loved you; see how she rubs herself against you--and that's the reason why I selected you from the whole village, to take care of her; but you at once injure yourself and refuse to do your friend a service. Howsomever, you know I shall be with young Squire, and he'll be master here one of these days, and I shall have an influence over him-- you'll see--you'll see. Look that there's not another "Spotted Dog" set up--augh!--bother!" "But what would my wife say, if I took the cat? she can't abide its name." "Let me alone to talk to your wife. What would she say if I bring her from Lunnun Town a fine silk gown, or a neat shawl, with a blue border-- blue becomes her; or a tay-chest--that will do for you both, and would set off the little back parlour. Mahogany tay-chest--inlaid at top-- initials in silver--J. B. to D. and P. D.--two boxes for tay, and a bowl for sugar in the middle.--Ah! ah! Love me, love my cat! When was Jacob Bunting ungrateful?--augh!" "Well, well! will you talk to Dorothy about it?" "I shall have your consent, then? Thanks, my dear, dear Peter; 'pon my soul you're a fine fellow! you see, you're great man of the parish. If you protect her, none dare injure; if you scout her, all set upon her. For as you said, or rather sung, t'other Sunday--capital voice you were in too-- "The mighty tyrants without cause Conspire her blood to shed!" "I did not think you had so good a memory, Corporal," said Peter smiling;--the cat was now curling itself up in his lap: "after all, Jacobina--what a deuce of a name--seems gentle enough." "Gentle as a lamb--soft as butter--kind as cream--and such a mouser!" "But I don't think Dorothy--" "I'll settle Dorothy." "Well, when will you look up?" "Come and take a dish of tay with you in half an hour;--you want a new tay-chest; something new and genteel." "I think we do," said Peter, rising and gently depositing the cat on the ground. "Aha! we'll see to it!--we'll see! Good b'ye for the present--in half an hour be with you!" The Corporal left alone with Jacobina, eyed her intently, and burst into the following pathetic address.