“Carrying on where?” exclaimed Jack, who was completely puzzled and amazed at Wilful’s way of talking.
Now if there was any one creature in the world that Wilful had the least respect for, it was old Jack, who was indeed universally looked up to, and held to be a very knowing old fellow; but this proud young pig now quite lost his temper at what he thought Jack’s slowness and stupidity. He answered him, I am sorry to say, in a very impertinent manner, and ended by telling him that, though he was so much older, a clever young fellow like himself was worth two of him; and Miss Peck said one day, that if, she knew who, were not a donkey, he never would have worn those frightful long ears all his life!
Old Jack half shut up his eyes again, and took no more notice of this speech than by smiling contemptuously.
“I tell you what, old gentleman,” said Wilful, in a great rage, “I thought it my duty to come and tell you, as an old friend, that you will certainly be killed before to-morrow morning; but as you do not care about it, I shall go and tell the blue butchers that you are ready to be made nasty pork of immediately.”
Jack was very sleepy, but the idea of his becoming pork tickled his fancy so much, that he lifted up his head and laughed aloud. The sight of his great teeth glimmering in the starlight enraged Wilful more than ever, and seeing that nothing he said made the least impression, he scampered off, without another word, as fast as his legs could carry him. What to do next he could not determine; the great noise that he had heard seemed to have died away, and it had just crossed his mind whether it would not be better to go home again, when there came a tremendous cracking sound in the air above him, and something as bright as fire fell close to his feet, hissed along the ground for a second or two, and then disappeared.
“Goodness gracious!” exclaimed Wilful as soon as he had recovered his breath and his senses—for he was completely scared at first; “goodness gracious! as sure as I’m alive, the stars are all falling out of the sky. Something must be done directly; somebody must go and tell the Queen. Where is Miss Peck? I must speak to her first, and then I shall set off to the Queen’s house immediately.”
Page 16.
So saying, Wilful made the best of his way across the yard towards the hen-house, and succeeded after some time in finding the little sliding door, which, unfortunately, was shut. There was an open grating above, Wilful knew, but he could not reach it, so he had nothing for it but to scratch the door gently, and call Miss Peck as loud as he dared, without disturbing Cock-a-doodle. Now Miss Peck, luckily for Wilful, seldom slept well. She was subject to spasms in her left leg, which made her restless, and was besides apt to fancy that somebody else had got a warmer corner than she had, so that she was continually shifting her place.
Not seldom, indeed, the families who lodged on the lower perch were upset and terrified in the middle of the night by something coming flapping and tumbling over them, which turned out to be Miss Peck, who was “really very sorry to be any annoyance to them, but what with the chills which ran over her on account of her sleeping-place being so particularly exposed to draughts, and what with the incessant spasms in her poor left leg, she could not support herself a moment longer, if she died for it.” These accidents, of course, did not make Miss Peck a popular character; and at last a general agreement was made, that the next time Miss Peck fell off her perch, she should not be allowed to come up again, but should be kept on the hen-house floor all the night. Cock-a-doodle was at the bottom of this plot against the unfortunate Peck, and it was no great wonder that he wished to oblige her to turn over a new leaf; for whenever she fell off her sleeping-place, she always found herself too weak to get up again without assistance, and would never trust anyone to help her but her “dear friend Cock-a-doodle,” who was obliged to do it for peace and quietness’ sake.