a hen pheasant on her nest; and it
had contained only five eggs, two of them addled. Mr. Tod had had an
unsatisfactory night.

[Illustration]

As usual, when out of humour, he determined to move house. First he
tried the pollard willow, but it was damp; and the otters had left a
dead fish near it. Mr. Tod likes nobody's leavings but his own.

He made his way up the hill; his temper was not improved by noticing
unmistakable marks of badger. No one else grubs up the moss so wantonly
as Tommy Brock.

[Illustration]

Mr. Tod slapped his stick upon the earth and fumed; he guessed where
Tommy Brock had gone to. He was further annoyed by the jay bird which
followed him persistently. It flew from tree to tree and scolded,
warning every rabbit within hearing that either a cat or a fox was
coming up the plantation. Once when it flew screaming over his head--Mr.
Tod snapped at it, and barked.

He approached his house very carefully, with a large rusty key. He
sniffed and his whiskers bristled. The house was locked up, but Mr. Tod
had his doubts whether it was empty. He turned the rusty key in the
lock; the rabbits below could hear it. Mr. Tod opened the door
cautiously and went in.

[Illustration]

The sight that met Mr. Tod's eyes in Mr. Tod's kitchen made Mr. Tod
furious. There was Mr. Tod's chair, and Mr. Tod's pie dish, and his
knife and fork and mustard and salt cellar and his table-cloth that he
had left folded up in the dresser--all set out for supper (or
breakfast)--without doubt for that odious Tommy Brock.

There was a smell of fresh earth and dirty badger, which fortunately
overpowered all smell of rabbit.

But what absorbed Mr. Tod's attention was a noise--a deep slow regular
snoring grunting noise, coming from his own bed.

He peeped through the hinges of the half-open bedroom door. Then he
turned and came out of the house in a hurry. His whiskers bristled and
his coat-collar stood on end with rage.

[Illustration]

For the next twenty minutes Mr. Tod kept creeping cautiously into the
house, and retreating hurriedly out again. By degrees he ventured
further in--right into the bedroom. When he was outside the house, he
scratched up the earth with fury. But when he was inside--he did not
like the look of Tommy Brock's teeth.

He was lying on his back with his mouth open, grinning from ear to ear.
He snored peacefully and regularly; but one eye was not perfectly shut.

Mr. Tod came in and out of the