“Thanks, Doctor,” she said. “I’m sure the white hen has laid behind the woodstack. I could see, from up there, an egg lying on some bits of straw. We must send Nickel to get it.”
She took the Doctor’s arm, and in this manner they entered the house.
When Dame Catherina and Mathéus appeared in the kitchen, Coucou Peter, seated on a stool before the hearth, was blowing with all his might through a long iron tube, to make the fire burn; the coals flamed, the vine shoots crackled, water was bubbling in the boiler, a magnificent cutlet was frizzling on the gridiron, and spreading around a most agreeable odour.
Mother Windling paused on the threshold, and cried—
“You rascally Coucou Peter! I’d like to know where you got that cutlet from?”
Without in the least disturbing himself, Coucou Peter indicated the large oak cupboard.
“He’s like a cat, he sees everything! But I thought I’d put the key in my pocket.”
“Who wants your key?” replied the fiddler, quite gravely. “I don’t; with a bit of straw I can open all the locks in the world.”
“Ah, the rogue!” cried the good woman, laughing, “he’ll end with the galleys!”