“What.”

“Is that the way to answer your mother?”

“Yesum, I mean nomum.”

“I want you to stay out in the front yard where you can watch my flower garden this afternoon.  I have planted some flower seeds out there and I want you to keep the neighbors’ hens way.  Your father is going to put a wire netting around the garden as soon as he can get a chance.”

“Why not ask the neighbors to keep their hens at home?” mildly inquired Mr. Brown.

“I have told them time and time again, but the Bakers say it must be the Jones’ hens and the Joneses say it is the Bakers’ hens.  As a matter of fact all their hens come over, but I don’t want to make a fuss, I can’t afford to lose the only two neighbors I have.”

“But ma, I promised Ned I’d go fishing with him.”

“You had no business to promise anything of the kind, now go out there and say no more about it.”

It was a warm spring day, just the right kind of weather to go fishing or rambling through the woods or playing marbles with the other boys or to do almost anything except stay in the front yard and watch neighbors’ hens.  Willie thought himself much abused and cast about for a means of escape.  He dared not run away; he had tried that before and the memory of the results was rather painful.  A shrill whistle interrupted his bitter thought and a moment later Ned came in view carrying a fishing rod, basket, and can of bait.

“Hello, Bill, ain’t yer ready yet?”

“Can’t go.”

“Tough luck, what’s the trouble?”

“I gotta stay here and keep the hens out of ma’s garden.”

“Why don’t yer cut it, you can stay away from home until late then your ma will get worried and be so glad when you show up she won’t whip yer.”

“Not on your life, I did once.  I never got home ’til long after dark.  Mother licked me good for running away then pa whoppoped me for scaring ma, nope, I’ve learned my lesson.”

“Gee, Bill, it’s dirt mean, but I’ll tell you what I will do, I’ll come back and play marbles with yer if the fish don’t bite good.”

“I wish the old hens was in Tophet.  Say, Ned, ain’t got a book yer could let a feller have, have yer?”

“Sure, one of the latest.  I just finished it and it’s a corker.  I promised Joe Hykes he could take it next but you will have time to read it this afternoon and Joe is off playin’ ball.”

Willie grabbed the book eagerly.  It had an alluring cover, the design was worked out in bright red, brilliant yellow and poisonous green and it represented a man in the act of killing a young and presumably beautiful woman.  It was of the dime novel variety entitled “Conclusive Evidence,” just the thing to appeal to the imaginative Willie.  Soon all thought of hens slipped from Willie’s mind, his heart beat rapidly, he breathlessly followed the hero’s thrilling adventures, he almost shed tears when the girl who had helped the hero outwit the villain was