“But, Billy dear,” she soothed, “you can be of such use to me just now! There’s a dear, say you’ll do it!”
“I’m not in the habit of refusing your requests, Biddykins,”—and this from Billy Whiskers, whom most animals thought so heartless and cruel! Which only proves the more conclusively that but the very closest of our friends ever know us through and through.
“Well, then,” clucked the Plymouth Rock beauty, “though they have labeled me with a blue tag it’s not worth the price of being caged like this. What I want you to do is to get me out of this box.”
“The very thing I meant to do!”
“Thanks! Thanks!” she clucked.
“Now to plan the details of the escape,” proceeded Billy. “Tell me, where is the door to your house?”
“The whole front is the door, kind sir,” she made reply, “and it’s most securely locked, I fear.”
“You’re sure?” for this would be a hard problem.
“Yes, sure of it. Every time they bring me fresh water and corn, the man turns the knob there on the left side.”
“Hump!” and Billy eyed the fastening.