They were troublesome, and he had to speak sharp," added Mr.Fox, addressing Mr.Parlin again.
"That's so!" exclaimed Mr.Grimes.

"You take three little chaps, and have 'em meddling with your nails, and sticking scraps of iron into the coals, and it makes a man cross--or it frets _me_, and I told 'em to quit." "Saucy little rogues," chimed in Mr.Fox, anxious for the honor of his workman.
"As for my striking the pony," continued Mr.Grimes, "I might have patted him once or twice with the _handle_ of the hammer.

I often do that; but my blows wouldn't kill a fly." After a little more conversation Mr.Parlin was satisfied that no real cruelty had been used towards Wings.

Susy's heart rose like a feather.
"_Always wait till you hear both sides of a story!_" said Mr.Parlin, as he and his daughter walked home.
"Just the words _mother_ said this very day," cried Susy, skipping lightly over the paving-stones.

"It's so queer you and mother should _both_ talk so much alike.".