FEATHER FLOP GETS ANGRY
FEATHER FLOP was in the vegetable garden the next morning long before
the children came for the radishes and lettuce.
When he saw them coming, he ran around a corner of the play house,
where he could hear every word, but could not be seen.
“Oh, Billy,” cried Mary Frances, happily, “isn’t this just fine!
Eleanor and I will pull the radishes and you can get the lettuce.”
Eleanor began to help Mary Frances, and Billy went to the lettuce bed.
“Well, of all things!” He shouted so loud both the girls jumped.
“What in the world’s the matter?” Mary Frances dropped the radishes she
had in her hand.
“Matter!” roared Billy. “Matter! That old rooster of yours has eaten
the hearts of the lettuce! That’s all! Darn him!”
“Oh, Billy, don’t use such language!” cried Mary Frances. “Maybe he
didn’t do it. Maybe it was a cutworm or a sparrow, or—or—”
“Look here!” demanded Billy. “Who took that bite?” pointing to a hole
in the lettuce just the size of Feather Flop’s beak.
“Oh, dear!” exclaimed Mary Frances, “I’m afraid it was Feather Flop!
Oh, how could he have done such a thing!”
“That’s not the only one!” went on Billy, examining further. “Every one
of these big heads has just such a bite taken out!”
“What shall we do!” exclaimed Eleanor. “What a disappointment!”
“I’m ready to cry!” said Mary Frances. “I wonder if any of it is fit to
use!”
“Yes,” answered Billy, “of course, you can use some of the leaves, but
the beauty of each head is spoiled! Here, you girls take these things
to the house.”
“Where are you going?” asked Mary Frances.
“I’m going hunting—hunting for a bird!” replied Billy grimly.
“Oh, don’t hurt him!” called the girls.
“Not if I can help it,” said Billy.
“What are you going to do with him?” again called Mary Frances.
“Come help me catch him, and you’ll see. I’m going to make a prisoner
of him!” Billy just then caught sight of Feather Flop as he half ran
and half flew across the lawn.
The rooster gave them a long chase, but finally Billy caught him and
tucked him under his arm.
Feather Flop meanwhile kept up an incessant chatter.
“We know you’re not pleased, old fellow,” said Billy as he put him into
a coop and held it down, “but you’re going to be put into a safe place.
No pleading off for you! Now, I’ve got you fixed.”
“Yes, you bad boy!” said Mary Frances.
At twilight, however, a little girl crept out with a plate of lettuce
to the old hen-coop where Feather Flop was prisoner.
“Feather Flop,” Mary Frances whispered softly, “Feather Flop!” but
there was no answer.
She stooped down and looked into the coop. At first she didn’t see the
rooster, then she espied him leaning up close to the farthest corner.
“Why, Feather Flop,” she exclaimed, “are you ill? Why didn’t you
answer?”
“I’m not sick,” muttered Feather Flop.
“Why, what is the matter then, old fellow?” said Mary Frances.
“Are you going to let me out?” asked the rooster sullenly.
“Not to-night, Feather Flop, I’m afraid. I think, myself, you need a
little punishment. Tell me, why did you do it?”
“I’ll not answer,” said Feather Flop. “I’m mad!”
“Oh, Feather Flop!” exclaimed Mary Frances. “Oh, Feather Flop! You did
wrong, and now you’re angry! What is the matter with you? You used to
be so nice!”
“Oh, let me alone,” answered the rooster.
“All right, then,” said Mary Frances. “All right! I’m going away now.”
“I don’t care! You could have saved me from being a jail bird!” said
Feather Flop, turning tail.
“Excuse me, I don’t care to answer another word!” he declared, putting
his head under his wing.
Just then her mother called her, and Mary Frances had to leave him to
go into the house.
“Poor old Feather Flop!” murmured the little girl. “Maybe I should have
saved him from being locked up like a real thief! I don’t believe he
meant to be so bad!”