Having thus given ocular evidence of the truth of what
she had asserted, Babette then delivered the message of her mistress; to
wit, "that until the dead body of Snarleyyow was laid at the porch where
they now stood, he, Mr Vanslyperken, would never gain re-admission." So
saying, and not feeling it very pleasant to continue a conversation in a
snow-storm, Babette very unceremoniously slammed the door in Mr
Vanslyperken's face, and left him to digest the communication with what
appetite he might. Mr Vanslyperken, notwithstanding the cold weather,
hastened from the door in a towering passion. The perspiration actually
ran down his face, and mingled with the melting snow. "To be or not to
be"--give up the widow or give up his darling Snarleyyow--a dog whom he
loved the more, the more he was, through him, entangled in scrapes and
vexations--a dog whom every one hated, and therefore he loved--a dog
which had not a single recommendation, and therefore was highly
prized--a dog assailed by all, and especially by that scarecrow
Smallbones, to whom his death would be a victory--it was impossible.
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