“He may find out who put the hen there.”
“That’s what I want him to do.”
“He may punish you.”
“I’d like to see him do it,” said Peter, wagging his head. “He’d find out he’d got a hard job on hand. Come, are you ready to go to school?”
“I don’t generally go so soon.”
“I want to be there early, so as to tie the hen.”
“All right; I’ll get my hat.”
The two boys started for school, and arrived nearly half an hour early. They entered the house, and, by means of a stout cord, soon secured the hen to the “master’s” chair. The poor bird did not appreciate or enjoy the high dignity which had been forced upon her. She probably thought that her personal wishes ought to have been consulted in the choice of a profession. She began to give vent to her dissatisfaction in the manner characteristic of her kind.
Soon some of the other scholars arrived. Most of them laughed, but Alfred Clinton ventured to remonstrate.
“You ought not to do that, Peter,” he said.