"Going to take her home," snapped Bob, "Peabody would like to see
Keppler have to get her out of the pound, but I'll save him that
trouble. You can go on back and read your book."

"Just because you're mad at Mr. Peabody is no reason why you should
be cross to me," said Betty with spirit. "I wasn't reading a book,
and I'm coming with you. So there!"

Bob laughed and told her to "come on." He was seldom out of sorts
long. Indeed, of the two, Betty had the quicker temper and cherished
a grudge more enduringly.

"Just the same, Betty," Bob announced, as he skillfully persuaded
the cow to forego the delights of a section of particularly sweet
grass and proceed on her course, "I'm about through. I can't stand it
much longer; and lately I've been afraid that in a rage I might
strike Mr. Peabody with something and either kill him or hurt him
badly. Of course, I wouldn't do it if I stopped to think, but when he
gets me furious as he did to-day, I don't stop to think."

"Well, for mercy's sake, Bob Henderson," ejaculated Betty in an
instant alarm, "don't kill him, whatever you do. Then you'd be put in
prison for life!"

"All right," agreed Bob equably, "I won't kill him--just nick him in
a few places--how will that do?"

"But I'm really serious," insisted Betty. "Don't let the cow turn up
that lane. Think how awful you would feel if you were sent to prison,