"Clarence," said Eustace, finding speech at last, "I had a very different purpose in mind when I counseled Martha as I did."
The rooster cocked his head quizzically. "So you wanted to reform my coophold, did you?"
"Yes," answered Eustace, in deep earnest.
Clarence exploded into a prolonged guffaw. "Whoopee!" he gurgled, stamping around and shaking his feathers. "Say, old bird, you've got lovely ideas, all right—but you don't understand hens. You're quaxotic."
III
BEYOND THE PALING
Eustace waddled stanchly in the path of virtue. Despite the ill success of his attempt to set Clarence's coop in order, he still pursued his crusade against plural doting.
The unregenerate rooster continued to chaff him.
"Ah there, old top-knot!" Clarence would gurgle. "How's our bright little uplifter to-day? Still busily uplifting?"
But the thrust that got Eustace in the pin feathers was: