Morris was the poultry-man at the White House.
“Do you hear that, Mary?” said Mrs Vallance. “Morris has just been down to tell your father that the poultry-yard was robbed yesterday.”
“And your old enemy the great turkey gobbler was found dead on the ground,” added Mr Vallance.
Mary breathed again. If it were only the turkey gobbler.
“Was anything else killed?” she asked in a trembling voice.
“How they managed it I can’t think,” repeated Mr Vallance; “and they appear to have got clear off with their spoil, there’s no trace of them.”
“Except the poor turkey gobbler,” said Mrs Vallance.
“Did they get into the house?” Mary now ventured to ask.
“No, my dear, no; they were not so daring as that. This sort of tramps is not too fond of going where there are likely to be dogs and pistols.”
“We must take warning by this, Mary,” said Mrs Vallance, “and be careful about our fowl-house; it would not do to lose my cochin-chinas or your pretty white bantams in the same way.”