Page:Further Chronicles of Avonlea (1920).djvu/180

150 we thought he’d have to be killed. But Sara wouldn’t hear of it. She got splints and set his leg just as knacky, and bandaged it up, and she has tended him like a sick baby ever since. He’s just about well now, and he lives in clover, that cat does. It's just her way. There’s them sick chickens she’s been doctoring for a week, giving them pills and things!

“And she thinks more of that wretched-looking calf that got poisoned with paris green than of all the other stock on the place.”

As the summer wore away Mrs. Eben tried to reconcile herself to the destruction of her air castles. But she scolded Sara considerably.

“Sara, why don’t you like Lige? I’m sure he 1s a model young man.”

“I don’t like model young men,” answered Sara impatiently. “And I really think I hate Lige Baxter. He has always been held up to me as such a paragon. I’m tired of hearing about all his perfections. I know them all off by heart. He doesn't drink, he doesn’t smoke, he doesn’t steal, he doesn’t tell fibs, he never loses his temper, he doesn’t swear, and he goes to church regularly. Such a faultless creature as that would certainly get on my nerves. No, no, you'll have to pick out another mistress for your new house at the Bridge, Aunt Louisa.”