Mrs. Cary stopped and looked sharply at something lying on the ground
beside the steps. Then she turned and swept the old man with an accusing
glance which made him quail.

"_William!_" she said, in awful tones.

"Yas'm," replied Uncle Billy, feverishly.

"What's _that_?"

Uncle Billy immediately became the very picture of innocence and
ignorance. He looked everywhere but at the helpless rooster.

"What's what?" he asked. "Aw, dat? Why--why, dat ain' nothin' 'tall,
Miss Hallie. Dat's--dat's des a _rooster_. Yas'm."

Mrs. Cary came down from the steps and looked carefully at the
unfamiliar bird. No fear that she would not recognize it if it were
hers. "Whose is he?" she asked.

"You--you mean who he b'longs to?" queried Uncle Billy, fencing for time
in which to prepare a quasi-truthful reply. "He--he don' b'long to
_nobody_. He's his _own_ rooster."

"William!" commanded Mrs. Cary, severely. "Look at me. _Where_ did you
get him?"

Here was a situation which Uncle Billy knew must be handled promptly,
and he picked up the rooster and made an attempt to escape. "Down on de