“I doan’t want you in my house to-night,” said the owner of ‘Corban’ suddenly. “You’ve shook me. You’ve shook a friendship of more’n fifty year standing, Amos Oldreive, an’ I can’t abear to look upon your face again to-day.” “More shame to you, Noah Sage! If you reckon your mangy cat be more to you than a gude Christian neighbour, say so. But I ban’t gwaine to fall down an’ worship thicky varmint—no, not for twenty men, so now you knaw.” “So much for friendship then,” answered Noah Sage, wagging his head. “So much for a silly auld fool,” replied Amos Oldreive, rather rudely; and they left it at that, and each turned his back upon his neighbour. Not a word was exchanged between them for three days; then the keeper sent in a message by Milly, who trembled before her parent as she delivered it. “Mr. Oldreive sez that ‘Corban’ have killed two more of his li’l game-birds, faither. An’ he sez that if so be as he goes for to catch puss in theer again, he’ll shutt un! Doan’t ’e look so grievous gallied, dear faither! I’m sure he never could do it after bein’ your friend fifty year, though certainly he was cleanin’ his gun when he spoke to me.” “Shutt the cat! If he do, the world shall ring with it, God’s my judge! Shutt my cat—red-handed, blood-sucking ruffian! Shutt my cat; an’ then think to marry his ginger-headed son to my darter! Never! the bald pelican. You tell him that if a hair o’ my cat be singed by his beastly fowling-piece, I’ll blaze it from here to Moretonhampstead—ess fay, I will, an’ lock him up, an’ you shan’t marry his Ted neither. Shutt my—Lord! to think as that man have been trusted by me for half a century! I cream all down my spine to picture his black heart. Guy Fawkes be a Christian gen’leman to un. Here! ‘Corban’! ‘Corban’! ‘Corban’! Wheer be you to, cat? Come here, caan’t ’e, my purty auld dear?” He stormed off, and Milly, her small eyes grown troubled and her lips drawn down somewhat, hastened to tell Ted Oldreive the nature of this dreadful discourse. “He took it very unkid,” she said. “Caan’t deny as poor faither was strung up to a high pitch by it. Such obstinate, saucy auld sillies as both be. An’ if faither’s cat do come to harm, worse will follow, for he swears I shan’t have ’e if Mr. Oldreive does anything short an’ sharp wi’ ‘Corban.’” Ted scratched his sandy locks as a way to let in light upon slow brains. “’Tis very ill-convenient as your cat will eat faither’s game-birds,” he said; “but knawin’ the store your auld man sets by the gert hulkin’ tabby, I’m sure my auld man never would ackshually go for to shutt un.” “If he does, ’tis all off betwixt you an’ me—gospel truth. Faither’s a man as stands to his word through thunder,” declared Milly. “An’ I ban’t of age yet, so he can keep me from you, an’ he will if Mr. Oldreive kills ‘Corban.’”