up to his eyes in hay. He's even got one of the oxen harnessed to a
hay cart."

"I wonder whether it's Duke?" said Miss Laura.

"Yes, it is. I saw the star on his forehead," replied Mrs. Wood.

"I don't know when I have laughed at anything as much as I did at him
the other day," said Miss Laura. "Uncle asked me if I had ever heard
of such a thing as a jealous ox, and I said no. He said, 'Come to the
barnyard, and I'll show you one.' The oxen were both there, Duke with
his broad face, and Bright so much sharper and more intelligent looking.
Duke was drinking at the trough there, and uncle said: 'Just look at
him. Isn't he a great, fat, self-satisfied creature, and doesn't he look
as if he thought the world owed him a living, and he ought to get it?'
Then he got the card and went up to Bright, and began scratching him.
Duke lifted his head from the trough, and stared at uncle, who paid no
attention to him but went on carding Bright, and stroking and petting
him. Duke looked so angry. He left the trough, and with the water
dripping from his lips, went up to uncle, and gave him a push with his
horns. Still uncle took no notice, and Duke almost pushed him over. Then
uncle left off petting Bright, and turned to him. He said Duke would
have treated him roughly, if he hadn't. I never saw a creature look as
satisfied as Duke did, when uncle began to card him. Bright didn't seem
to care, and only gazed calmly at them."

"I've seen Duke do that again and again," said Mrs. Wood. "He's the most
jealous animal that we have, and it makes him perfectly miserable
to have your uncle pay attention to any animal but him. What queer
creatures these dumb brutes are. They're pretty much like us in most
ways. They're jealous and resentful, and they can love or hate equally
well and forgive, too, for that matter; and suffer how they can suffer,
and so patiently, too. Where is the human being that would put up with
the tortures that animals endure and yet come out so patient?"

"Nowhere," said Miss Laura, in a low voice "we couldn't do it."

"And there doesn't seem to be an animal," Mrs. Wood went on, "no matter
how ugly and repulsive it is, but what has some lovable qualities. I
have just been reading about some sewer rats, Louise Michel's rats."

"Who is she?" asked Miss Laura.

"A celebrated Frenchwoman, my dear child, 'the priestess of pity and
vengeance,' Mr. Stead calls her. You are too young to know about her
but I remember readin