'You gallus little blessed!' said Hazel again. 'Eh! I wish you and me
could live all alone by our lonesome where there was no men and women.'

Foxy shut her eyes and yawned, evidently feeling doubtful if such a
halcyon place existed in the world.

Hazel sat on her heels and thought. It was flight or Foxy. She knew
that if she did not take Foxy away, her renewed naughtiness was as
certain as sunset.

'You was made bad,' she said sadly but sympathetically. 'Leastways, you
wasn't made like watch-dogs and house-cats and cows. You was made a
fox, and you be a fox, and its queer-like to me, Foxy, as folk canna
see that. They expect you to be what you wanna made to be. You'm made
to be a fox; and when you'm busy being a fox they say you'm a sinner!'

Having wrestled with philosophy until Foxy yawned again, Hazel went in
to try her proposition on Abel. But Abel met it as the world in general
usually meets a new truth.

'She took the chick,' he said. 'Now, would a tarrier do that--a
well-trained tarrier? I says 'e would _not_'

'But it inna fair to make the same law for foxes and terriers.'

'I make what laws suit me,' said Abel. 'And what goes agen me--gets
drownded.'

'But it inna all for you!' cried Hazel.