She is my worst torment and
my one sure refuge. When I run to her, my heart sick with fear, how soft
her arms are and how sweet her hair, falling in my face! I'm her
"black-baby," her "Toby-Dog," her "little bit o' love." She sits on the
ground to reassure me, making herself little like me--lies down
altogether and I go wild with delight at the sight of her face under
mine, thrown back in her fragrant hair. My feelings overflow, I can't
resist such a chance for a jolly good game. I rummage and fumble about,
excitedly poking my nose everywhere, till I find the crispy tip of a
pink ear--Her ear. I nibble it just enough to tickle her--to make her
cry out: "Stop, Toby! That's awful! Help! Help! This dog's devouring
me!"
KIKI-THE-DEMURE
H'm! Simple, homely, wholesome joys! ... And then, off you go to make
friends with the cook.
TOBY-DOG And you,--with the cat at the farm.
KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_coldly_)
Enough I pray, that concerns no one but myself ... and the little cat.
TOBY-DOG
A pretty conquest! It should make you blush--a seven-months-old kitten!
KIKI-THE-DEMURE, (_roused_)
For me she has all the charm of forbidden fruit and no one dare steal
her from me.
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