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!”