The chief laughed, and so did everybody else who heard the story. The policeman was directed to return to Mrs. Gammer's cottage later in the day, and serve her with an order requiring her to give up the cock immediately. But when he handed Mrs. Gammer the official paper, she laughed in his face.
"You can look round the house for the cock now if you like," she said contemptuously, slapping down the order upon the table, "and you can see if you can find him."
"Is he still on the top of your tester-bed?" demanded the policeman.
"Go and look," responded Mrs. Gammer, with a snort. "You can take the turk's-head brush and brush him down!"
So, armed with the turk's-head brush, the policeman ascended Mrs. Gammer's small, steep staircase. When he reached her bedroom, he poked into every cranny and corner with the handle of his brush. But no cock was to be found.
He descended the stairs, and stood again in the little kitchen. A savory smell of cooking arose from a stew-pan on the fire.
"Where's the critter gone to?" he demanded.
"How should I know?" replied Mrs. Gammer testily.
The policeman, still standing in the kitchen, wished that Mrs. Gammer would give him an invitation to supper. The widow glanced up sharply at him and saw what was in his mind.
"You'd like some supper, I make no doubt, after your wild-goose chase," she said. "Sit down at t' table and take a bit o' stew."