Some such ruling may be crudely effective--I
don't for a minute presume to set up my standards as final--among the
ditches; but from the larger point of view that one gains by living at the
heart of things, it seems for a rule of life a little overstrained. Why,
because some of your associates have, shall I say, liberal views on the
ultimate destination of a sack of--er--middlings don't they call them----"
"Something of that sort," said the Black Rat, a most sharp and sweet-
toothed judge of everything ground in the mill for the last three years.
"Thanks--middlings be it. _Why_, as I was saying, must I disarrange my fur
and my digestion to chase you round the dusty arena whenever we happen to
meet?"
"As little reason," said the Black Rat, "as there is for me, who, I trust,
am a person of ordinarily decent instincts, to wait till you have gone on
a round of calls, and then to assassinate your very charming children."
"Exactly! It has its humorous side though." The Grey Cat yawned. "The
miller seems afflicted by it. He shouted large and vague threats to my
address, last night at tea, that he wasn't going to keep cats who 'caught
no mice.' Those were his words. I remember the grammar sticking in my
throat like a herring-bone."
"And what did you do?"
"What does one do when a barbarian utters? One ceases to utter and
removes. I removed--towards his pantry. It was a _riposte_ he might
appreciate.
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