It seems more natural, and _fairer_. They have
a run for their lives, so to speak."
"And who did you get to kill your mouse?"
"Well, I know a youngster who has a terrier. They are a perfect pair. As
like as two peas, and equally keen about sport--they would go twenty
miles to chase a bluebottle round an attic, sooner than not hunt
something. So I told him there was a mouse _de trop_ in my rooms, and he
promised to bring Nipper next morning. I was going out hunting myself.
"The meet was early, and my man got breakfast at seven o'clock for me in
my own quarters; and the first thing I saw when I came out of my bedroom
was the mouse sitting on the edge of my Indian silver sugar-basin. I
knew him again by his ear. And there he sat all breakfast-time,
twitching his tail, and nibbling little bits of sugar, and watching me
with such a pair of eyes! Have you ever seen a mouse's eyes close? Upon
my word, they are wonderfully beautiful, and it's uncommonly difficult
to hurt a creature with fine eyes. I didn't touch it, and as I was going
out I looked back, and _the mouse was looking after me_. I was a fool
for looking back, for I can't stand a pitiful expression in man or
beast, and it put an end to Nipper's sport, and left me with a mouse in
my quarters--a thing I hate.
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