In a few minutes Mrs. Slipper-slopper bounced back into the room, and, in doing so, gave John a punch on the breast that caused him to trip over a chair and fall headlong to the floor.

“My dear Mary—” said John.

“Dear Mary!” cried the old woman, “don’t dear me! Dear goose and duck, indeed! Get up, quick, and run after them! Do you hear?”

Now, John said nothing, but he thought that if his wife had been less passionate and more patient, it would have been better for them both. All her rage did not stop the fox; but it was the cause of the snuffers being tossed over the window, of the candle being broken, and of John being tumbled on the floor. Then, as the candle was out, John lost some time in finding his breeches, and when he did find them, old Mrs. Slipper-slopper hurried him so that he put them on the wrong way and had to take them off again. At last the old lady lost all patience and would not allow John to put on anything more except a pair of old slippers. Taking him by the shoulders, she thrust him out of the house, and, putting a hunting horn into one hand and a broom into the other, bade him fly for his life. John instantly started off, and, as the fox was far away by this time, he ran with right good will.