“And you’ll just have to help me get him out,” said she. “I have company coming to-morrow and I have to get that turkey killed and dressed to-night. Carrie is off with some of her friends—instead of helping me—and Mr. Pepper won’t be home till the late boat. I’ll pay for the broken glass, of course; but you’ll have to help me take that turkey away.”
A turkey hunt promised some excitement, and the six children went into the house determined to find the missing bird. Mrs. Pepper implored them not to chase him, when they found him, “for,” she said, “I’ve been feeding him on English walnuts and chocolates for a week, and I don’t want him to lose his fat. A scrawny turkey is something I can’t abide.”
“I feel as though I was hunting for a burglar,” Polly whispered to Margy, as they tiptoed through the lower rooms.
“So do I,” answered Margy. “Oh! What was that?”
It was nothing but a window shade that had rattled against the pane, blown by the draft which came through the broken window. Dora, the Larue maid, had gone to her own home to stay over the holiday, and there was no one but the searchers in the house.
“Well, he isn’t on the first floor,” said Fred, when all the rooms had been carefully examined. “Artie and I will go up to the attic and have a look around there. A turkey might feel more at home in an attic.”
Mrs. Pepper didn’t seem convinced, but she went on with her hunt and Fred and Artie went to the attic. The door opening on the steep stairway was half open, and as Fred jerked it back, something flapped in his face.
Fred was no coward, but he jumped back with a startled cry. A large turkey scuttled up the attic stairs.
“He’s up here!” shouted Fred. “Come on—we’ll get him! He’s up here!”
The other children came running, and Mrs. Pepper toiled after them.