The doctor settled down to his glass. " Never give
275



THE MINISTER'S DOG

advice," he soliloquized. " But what's the use of say-
ing that to a medical man ? Poor Dominie, he'll hear
it on all sides to-morrow."

The Dominie went to bed in a huff, and woke up in
a bad temper.
He was pottering about in his little vegetable garden,
when suddenly a dark shadow intervened between him
and the feeble April sun. Looking up, he saw Miss
Kezia Vandonderboom.
' I want the price of those chickens, please," said Miss
K zia in a voice like a whiplash.
" My housekeeper pays for things," replied the young
minister loftily. " But I haven't had any fowl since I
came."

Miss Kezia turned green. " Do you take me for your
butterwoman. Dominie ? " she said. " I don't need to
sell anything, thank Heaven. But I'm not going to have
my and my sister's chickens chased by your brute of a
dog without getting paid for the damage."

" Nero ? " cried the Dominie, white and sick. " Does
Nero chase your chickens ? "

" Your dog does, whatever his evil name may be !
And you a Christian pastor, calling your dog after the
Babylonish tyrant ! I dare say he's going mad, like that
monster went : howsoever, he don't eat grass, but
chickens ! "

" I will pay for the damage. How much is it ? " said
the Dominie, hoping it was not much. He went in, to
his desk.
