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.

XVI

GUARDING THE CORNCRIB

Grumpy Weasel never seemed to have anything but bad luck whenever he
went near the farmyard. Perhaps that was the reason