say. So Mrs. Hen
sauntered across the henyard to find out what it was.

"Don't you know whom you're talking to?" the neighbor demanded in a loud
whisper. "That's Grumpy Weasel--the worst rascal in all these parts."

Somehow that sent a pleasant flutter of excitement through Mrs. Hen. At
the same time she couldn't quite believe the news, because her caller
had said such very pleasant things.

"Don't worry!" she told her neighbor. "I'm old enough to look out for
myself."

"I should say so!" her neighbor cried. "You're three years old if you're
a day!"

"I'm not!" Mrs. Hen retorted. "I'm only two and a half." Her feathers
were all ruffled up and she went straight back and told Grumpy Weasel
what her neighbor had said about him.

"You don't believe that, I hope," Grumpy ventured.

Mrs. Hen clucked and tried to look wise. And at last she confided to
Grumpy that her neighbor was a jealous creature and sure to speak ill of
a stranger who came to call on anybody but herself.

Well, Grumpy Weasel told Mrs. Hen that he knew, when he first set eyes
on her, that she was a sensible little body.

"You've a snug home here," he went on. "I can tell you that I'd like
such a place to crawl into on a chilly, wet night." And though it was a
warm, fine summer's day he shivered and shook, so Mrs. Hen could see.

And silly Mrs. Hen couldn't help feeling sorry for him.

XIV

GRUMPY VANISHES

Grumpy Weasel was quick to see that fat Mrs. Hen swallowed every word he
said as greedily as if it had been an angleworm. "Yes! You have a fine
house here," he said. "But of course you're crowded," he added gloomily,
to show Mrs. Hen that he knew she had no place for him.

"Oh! Not at all!" Mrs. Hen assured him.

"And the door's always shut tight at night," he added, "on account of
that prowling Tommy Fox."

"Yes! We have to be careful," said Mrs. Hen.

"And there's Peter Mink, too," Grumpy went on. "Don't leave an opening
big enough for him! He can get through a small hole, too--any that's big
enough for his head."

At that Mrs. Hen looked startled, as if she had just remembered
something that made her feel uneasy.

"He couldn't get through a rat hole, could he?" she inquired nervously.

"Why--there isn't one here, is there?" Grumpy asked.

"There is an old one," she admitted. "It hasn't been used in my time."

"If I could see it I'd know at once whether Pete could crawl through
it," Grumpy Weasel said, talking to himse