CHAPTER XVIII.
MRS. WOOD'S POULTRY.
FTER breakfast Mrs. Wood put on a large apron, and going into the kitchen, said: "Have my scraps for the hens, Adèle? Be sure and not give me anything salty."
The French girl gave her a dish of food, then Mrs. Wood asked Miss Laura to go and see her chickens, and away we went to the poultry house.
On the way we saw Mr. Wood. He was sitting on the step of the tool shed cleaning his gun. "Is the dog dead?" asked Miss Laura.
"Yes," he said.
She sighed and said: "Poor creature, I am sorry he had to be killed. Uncle, what is the most merciful way to kill a dog? Sometimes, when they get old, they should be put out of the way."
"You can shoot them," he said, "or you can poison them. I shot Bruno through his head into his neck. There's a right place to aim at. It's a little one side of the top of the skull. If you'll remind me I'll show you a circular I have in the house. It tells the proper way to kill animals. The American Humane Education Society in Boston puts it out, and it's a merciful thing.
"You don't know anything about the slaughtering of animals, Laura, and it's well you don't. There's an aw-
