suffer needlessly." The children were never allowed to look on while a creature was being killed, lest by pitying it they should make it die hard.
Once, however, her wrath was roused against the two dogs, Sultan and Tyrol. There was cause! They had dug into the ducks' house and before morning had killed ten ducklings,—bright yellow ones and full of promise. When, the next morning, Grandmother discovered this, her hands fell to her side. There was the old goose, frightened and cackling, and with only three ducklings left of the large brood that she had hatched out, when they were deserted by their own truant mother. At first she suspected the raccoon of the deed, but she soon discovered by the tracks that it was the dogs. The dogs, those faithful watchers! She could scarcely believe her eyes. And yet they came out and wagged their tails as if nothing had happened. "Away from me, you wretches! What had those ducklings done to you? Are you hungry? Indeed, you're not; you have done this out of pure willfulness. Away, out of my sight!" The dogs dropped their tails and sneaked off to their kennels; Grandmother, forgetting that it was yet early, went into the bed-room to tell her daughter of the misfortune.
When Mr. Proshek saw her pale face and tearful eyes, he thought that the burglars must have broken into the store-room, or that Barunka was dead; but when he heard the whole story, he could scarcely refrain from smiling. What were a few ducklings to him! He had not "set" them; he had not seen them break through their shells; he did not know how pretty they were as they swam in
