"Suicide while temporarily insane," put in Cadbury, covering his mouth with his hand.
"Well, it did look just as if it wanted to die! But what shall I have to fork out, do you suppose? Five bob? I've got no more on me. Say, they aren't likely to prosecute, are they?"
Grey was really frightened. Cadbury looked at the picture again, tried to take it seriously, failed, and burst into a fit of laughter.
"Awfully sorry, Grey, but—ha, ha, ha!—what am I to do? You—ha, ha, ha!—you do look a treat! I—ha, ha, ha!—I'll stop in a minute. Oh, ho, ho, ho, ho, ho!"
Poor Grey felt anything but amused. He gathered himself to his feet, and remarked stiffly, "Well, Cadbury, when you've done—"
Cadbury steadied himself with an effort.
"It's all over now, Grey. I'm as grave as a judge. And to show you how penitent I am, I'll see this job through for you. But you must obey me to the letter. No, don't brush yourself! Just lie down again as you were, and, however much you're tempted to, don't apologize! Be dignified and injured."
Grey objected, but was persuaded to submit.
"Now to find the owner of this giddy young fowl! We'll see if they lay claim to it here."
Cadbury pushed open a little gate, and knocked at the door of the nearest cottage. It proved to be the residence of the chicken's mistress, an untidy, heavy-looking woman, who apparently lived alone. Cadbury greeted her with the air of a constable, lawyer, and magistrate rolled into one, and the woman listened with deep respect.