XV
THE GREAT MYSTERY
The story soon spread all around the farmyard,
how
fat Mrs. Hen
had been seen talking with no less a rascal than
Grumpy Weasel.
Everybody told her that it was a dangerous thing to
do
and that it was a wonder she had escaped,
until Mrs. Hen
began to feel that she was quite the most important person in
the neighborhood.
Even old dog Spot asked her some questions
one day---some of which she could answer, and some of which
she could not.
For one thing, she couldn't (or wouldn't) tell what
way Grumpy left the farmyard.
"He just jumped back and was
gone before I knew it," she said.
"That's what they all say," said Spot. "He's so quick
you never can see him go."
Now, Mrs. Hen ought to have explained that Grumpy
Weasel disappeared from inside the henhouse.
But she was not
a person of much sense.
By that time she began to think that
perhaps Grumpy Weasel was as bad as the neighbors had said.
And she was afraid that her relations might find fault with
her
if they learned that she had invited Grumpy to enter
their house.
Silly Mrs. Hen decided that she wouldn't tell
what she had done.
But she never tired of talking about what
she called "the great mystery"
---meaning "Where did Grumpy
Weasel go?"
It was simple enough.
To escape meeting old dog Spot,
Grumpy Weasel had crawled into the old rat hole.
It suited
him quite well to do that, for more than one reason.
Not only
did he avoid trouble, but he found the other end of the rat
hole.
Silly Mrs. Hen had done exactly as he had hoped. She
had shown him a way to get into the henhouse at night in
spite of locks and bolts and doors.
And Grumpy Weasel went
off to the woods well pleased with himself.
"Perhaps, after all, it pays to be pleasant," he
said
---just as if that was a reason! But he stopped short all
at once.
"There's that stupid Mrs. Hen," he cried aloud. "She
was pleasant; but it won't pay her, in the end!"
So he
decided on the spot that he would keep on being surly.
It
would be much easier for him, anyhow.
That very night Grumpy Weasel stole back to the
henhouse.
And he was just about to creep up to the old rat
hole,
pausing first to take a searching look all around, when
he saw a motionless figure sitting on a low-hanging limb of a
tree near-by.
It was Solomon Owl.
And Grumpy could see that
he was staring at the rat hole as if he were waiting for
somebody.
Grumpy Weasel knew at once that that rat hole was no
safe place for him.
Very gingerly he drew back into a deep
shadow.
And as he pondered silently he saw a huge rat step
out of the hole.
Solomon Owl swooped down and grabbed the
fellow before he knew what was happening.
Well, Grumpy Weasel saw that all his trouble had gone
for nothing.
Silly Mrs. Hen hadn't known what she was talking
about.
If Solomon Owl was in the habit of watching that hole
Grumpy certainly didn't mean to go near it.
Of course he was angry. But Mrs. Hen never learned
what he said about her.
No matter what remarks her neighbors
made,
she always insisted afterward
that Grumpy Weasel was
one of the most pleasant and polite gentlemen she had ever
met.
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