"If there ain't old Bersicker come back by 'isself!" He went to the door and opened it, a most unnecessary proceeding it seemed to me.

I have always thought that a wild animal never looks so well as when some obstacle of pronounced durability is between us.

A personal experience has intensified rather than diminished that idea.
After all, however, there is nothing like custom, for neither Bilder nor his wife thought any more of the wolf than I should of a dog.
The animal itself was a peaceful and well-behaved as that father of all picture-wolves, Red Riding Hood's quondam friend, whilst moving her confidence in masquerade.
The whole scene was a unutterable mixture of comedy and pathos.

The wicked wolf that for a half a day had paralyzed London and set all the children in town shivering in their shoes, was there in a sort of penitent mood, and was received and petted like a sort of vulpine prodigal son.

Old Bilder examined him all over with most tender solicitude, and when he had finished with his penitent said, "There, I knew the poor old chap would get into some kind of trouble.