Although I had, for the most part, so very stout an appetite that my
bowl stood always first for the refilling, I had no desire for my food
that day, but idly sat and stirred, and the burden of my thoughts wore
deeply inward with the dwelling of my mind on this view and on that of
it. But, on a sudden, what a turmoil, what a rising of maids, what a
jumping on chairs, what a drawing up of gowns, and what a scurrying!
For, out of a corner, comes the great brown rat, gliding sedately,
and never so much as asking by your leave or with your leave. Then
mother's old tom-cat, _Trouncer_, slowly rising, stretches his limbs,
and bares his claws, making ready for what is to come, but not,
me-thinks, with much alacrity for the conflict, for rats have teeth,
as _Trouncer_ knows--ay, and can use them to much purpose. Therefore
_Trouncer_, making belief to be brave, as is the custom both of
cats and of others that walk on two legs, and have thumbs to their
fore-paws, gathers himself to the spring, but springs not. Then comes
GIRT JAN's terrier, _Rouser_, at last--where hath the terrier been
tarrying? Terriers should not tarry--and, with scant ceremony, leaps
upon _Trouncer_. Cuff, cuff, go the claws. _Trouncer_ swears roundly.
Nay, _Trouncer_, 'tis a coward's part to fly beneath the chair.
To him, good _Rouser_, to him, my man. But _Rouser_ hath forgot
the claw-bearer, though his bleeding nose for many a day shall
remember. _Rouser_ hath the rat in view. Round the parlour they go,
helter-skelter, _Rouser_ on the tracks of the life-desiring rat, while
the maids upon the chairs show ankles, in proof of terror, until, lo!
he hath him pinned fast, never more to stir, or clean his whiskers in
rat-land.
And then all come down, and JAN boasts loudly how he all but trod him
flat, ay, and could have done so had rat not fled in terror of his
boot; and _Trouncer_ returns, smugly purring, and mother rates the
blushing maids.
And I to the fields, having work to do, but liking not the doing.