"Awful dark--isn't it?" said an owl, one night, looking in upon the
roosting hens in a poultry-house; "don't see how I am to find my way
back to my hollow tree."
"There is no necessity," replied the cock; "you can roost there,
alongside the door, and go home in the morning."
"Thanks!" said the owl, chuckling at the fool's simplicity; and,
having plenty of time to indulge his facetious humour, he gravely
installed himself upon the perch indicated, and shutting his eyes,
counterfeited a profound slumber. He was aroused soon after by a sharp
constriction of the throat.
"I omitted to tell you," said the cock, "that the seat you happen by
the merest chance to occupy is a contested one, and has been fruitful
of hens to this vexatious weasel. I don't know _how_ often I have been
partially widowed by the sneaking villain."
For obvious reasons there was no audible reply.
This narrative is intended to teach the folly--the worse than sin!--of
trumping your partner's ace.