[Subsection]

Each time they slaughtered an animal on the farm, Brownie went wild. Father always did the job himself. Per did not see the animal until it lay dead on the bench. He did not find it horrible; it was certain and settled beforehand that they had to be slaughtered, just as certain and natural as that one would eat and sleep oneself. But when Father went into Brownie's stall afterwards to give him his feed, Brownie snorted wildly, shivered, and cringed against the wall. The stink of the slaughter was in Father's clothes and on his hands. Brownie smelled it no matter how well Father had washed.

It was a strange sight: big, strong Brownie cringing because of a smell on someone's hands.

Per heard talk of slaughterers who went the rounds of the farms. Why didn't Father use them?

"He's too good to animals to do that," replied Auntie. "Don't you think the animals know when they're going to be killed? He'd rather do it himself, not have strangers to do it. Don't you understand?"

"No."

But---he's good to animals, Auntie had said. It was reassuring that she had said so. It sounded safe and reassuring. Perhaps he too would be good to animals one day?