Cackling and fluttering, the hen raced about inside the trolley car, and Freddie tried to catch her, but could not. Several of the men made grabs for the lively fowl, but finally she saw the same open door by which the rooster had gotten out, and away she flew.
“She didn’t like it in here,” observed Flossie.
“I don’t blame her,” said a woman passenger, laughing. “Poor thing! Her nerves must be all on an edge.”
“Let’s go and see if they catch ’em,” suggested Freddie. But Bert said they had no time for that.
The slipping crate, which had broken the window, was finally pulled back on the truck. The slat was nailed fast so no other fowls could get out, and then the trolley car moved along. The conductor picked up the larger pieces of broken glass and pulled the curtain down over the window to keep out the cold air.
“My, you must have had some excitement,” said Mr. Bobbsey, when the children finally reached his office and told him of the accident. “I’m glad Freddie wasn’t cut by the broken glass.”
“I’m glad, too,” said the little Bobbsey boy.
Mr. Bobbsey read the letter Bert had brought him, and then the same worried look Bert had seen before came over his father’s face.
“Do you want me to tell mother anything?” asked Bert.
“No, except to thank her for sending me down this letter. Still, you might say to her that I think I shall have to go to Cedar Camp in a day or two.”