"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. Mrs. Bold set the little pig carefully on its feet, and sidled across the yard, eyeing her husband the while with a curious expression that was half-fearful, half-triumphant. When she reached the closed stable door she opened it, plunged into the dark recess within, and reappeared, dragging forth by a wisp of his ragged mane--poor, decrepit old Blackbird.