"It has a master here.

Not P.Teagarden.

Why, Margret," pushing his stubby finger between the tin bars "do you think the God you believe in would have sent it here without a work to do ?" She looked up; there was a curious tremour in his flabby face, a shadow in his rough voice.
"If it dies here, its life won't have been lost.

Nothing is lost.

Let it alone." "Not lost ?" she said, slowly, refastening the cage.