XXXII. In Extenuation 



LETTERS that reach me these days usually 

 conclude with a word of solicitude for Bea- 

 trice. Tender-hearted people appear to be 

 shocked by my references to kicking her out 

 of the way when passing through the barnyard. I 

 really wish they would tell me what to do when she 

 comes over the top at me when I am carrying a pail 

 of swill to which the chop-feed has not been added. 

 It is entirely useless to try to explain to her that if 

 she will wait a minute she will get a much better 

 dinner. She wants it right away or sooner, 

 and my kicks simply make her say, "Whoof! 

 whoof !" As soon as I lower my guard she rushes 

 to the attack again, and it takes skilful work to 

 get into the granary with the pail of swill without 

 having it spilled. At present the net result of our 

 combats is that I have a stubbed toe. I haven't 

 managed to make any impression on her, mentally 

 or physically. One correspondent urges that I am 

 doing injury to the "keep-a-pig" campaign by ex- 



