Billy spaded, and Mary Frances planted, and Feather Flop looked on from a distance whenever Billy was anywhere to be seen.
One day, Mary Frances met him as she came to the compost heap, where she was going to throw some weeds and grass cuttings.
“Why, Feather Flop,” she exclaimed, “I haven’t seen you for ever-so-long! Where have you been?”
“I’ve been—I’ve been—watching,” said Feather Flop, “and when I’ve thought I dared, I’ve weeded your garden; yes, I have. Haven’t you noticed how few weeds there were?” he asked anxiously.
“I have, Feather Flop, indeed I have; only the other day I said to Billy, ‘I almost could imagine someone had been “cultivating” the garden this morning.’”
“That was the morning I got up before daylight, and went out there and scratched, and scratched, where I felt sure I would not disturb anything which ought not to be disturbed,” said Feather Flop, delighted.
“My,” said Mary Frances, “how perfectly dear of you, Feather Flop; I can’t begin to tell you the wonderful fairy-story-feeling I have, to know that all the time that Billy and I are studying and working, you are so interested and kind, so anxious to help me!”
“Oh, yes, dear Miss,” sighed the happy rooster; “but I certainly do wish I could do more and be with you oftener.”
“Never mind, Feather Flop,” said the little girl. “Some day when Billy goes to town, we’ll spend the whole day together.”
“Good!” cried Feather Flop, delighted. “Good! and now, please let me show you where I found so many cutworms.”