Above the roar of the black fireplace they could hear the howling of the dogs, the yelping of the cats, and the shrill call of the horses. And across the road, in the alley where the butcher was standing, they could see the huge cat-shed (which had six cats in it), and the sizzling sound of grinding death.
Mr Twit came back to the farmhouse again after the Easter season had been finished. 'This is where all my money is,' he said, smiling.