will taste just as good a little later as it would now, and it will
be foolish to go up to Farmer Brown's until we are sure that everybody
up there is asleep. But to ease your mind, I'll tell you what we
will do; we'll go where we can see Farmer Brown's house and watch
until the last light winks out."

So they trotted to a point where they could see Farmer Brown's house,
and there they sat down to watch. It seemed to Reddy that those lights
never would wink out. But at last they did.

"Come on, Granny!" he cried, jumping to his feet.

"Not yet, Reddy. Not yet," replied Granny. "We've got to give folks
time to get sound asleep. If we should get into that henhouse,
those hens might make a racket, and if anything like that is going
to happen, we want to be sure that Farmer Brown and Farmer Brown's
boy are asleep."

This was sound advice, and Reddy knew it. So with a groan he once more
threw himself down on the snow to wait. At last Granny arose,
stretched, and looked up at the twinkling stars. "Come on," said she
and led the way.

Up back of the barn and around it they stole like two shadows and
quite as noiselessly as shadows. They heard Bowser the Hound
sighing in his sleep in his snug little house, and grinned at each
other. Silently they stole over to the henyard. The gate was open,
just as Granny had told Reddy it would be. Across the henyard they
trotted swiftly, straight to where more than once in the daytime
they had seen the hens come out of the house through a little hole.