“What in blazes makes you think it’s a jolly old time for us to be adopting some fleabag mutt?” Cora complained. She was at the sink chopping vegetables for stew, and her fury wielding the knife emphasized her aggravation.
“Murphy won’t be a bother,” Evan assured her as he took off his coat and draped it over a kitchen chair. “A meal and a blanket to curl up on at night are all she needs. During the day, she’ll have the run of the property. She’s very independent, you’ll see.”
Cora turned back to get another look at Murphy and pronounced, “She’s old. I hope you didn’t have to pay for her.”
“Old and wise,” Evan said. “And no, she’s a gift from a dear friend who couldn’t be with her anymore.”
“Couldn’t manage the vet bills, you mean,” Cora sniffed as she resumed her chopping.
Luke and M
