Funny Frank (5 page)

“And I have something important to do, Mildred. Something private and personal. A well-bred hen expects some privacy when she is sitting in her nest box for a purpose. I don't wish to do it with someone looking on.”

“Oh, sorry, dear,” said Mildred.“I'll tell you later on.” And she went away.

As soon as she was gone, Gertie raised herself a little and, with a slightly strained expression on her face, laid an egg. She stood up and turned to inspect it. It was, she saw with satisfaction, of a good size and a good color—a handsome shade of brown. Gertie, something of a snob, rather despised hens that laid white eggs.

Now she stepped from the nest box, gave that shout of triumph that all hens make after laying, and made her way out of the henhouse. Mildred was waiting by the pophole.

“Well?” said Gertie.“What is this important thing you wish to tell me?”

“It's about Frank, Gertie,” said Mildred. “I was having a little look around the place and happened to see him.”

“Where?”

“In the rabbit hutch.”

Oh no! thought Gertie. First he wants to be a duck. Now he wants to be a rabbit.“A
rabbit hutch!” she said. “Poor boy! No room to move about.”

“No,” said Mildred, “but at least you can't drown in a rabbit hutch!”

Chapter Five

Jemima's mother did have an old hot-water bottle that no one ever used. “But why d'you want it?” she asked Jemima.

“Uncle Ted wants it.”

“Whatever for?”

Just then the vet came in.

“Whatever do you want a hot-water bottle for, Ted?” asked his sister-in-law. “Is it to keep a lamb warm?”

“No, Carrie,” said Ted Tabb. “It's to keep
a chicken dry. Can I borrow your tape measure? We must make it fit properly.”

“Make what fit?”

“A wet suit, Mum,” said Jemima. “For Frank. So that he can swim.”

“Actually, we'd be glad of your help, Carrie,” said the vet. “I know you're a good dressmaker.”

“You're crazy, the pair of you,” Jemima's mother said. But to herself she said, If it's worth doing, it's worth doing well.

First they took Frank out of the rabbit hutch and made careful notes of his measurements — the length of his back,
the breadth of his breast — and then they held the hot-water bottle up against him to try it on for size.

With her dressmaking shears, Jemima's mother cut off the mouth of the bottle and cut right round the edges of it to make two rubber panels. “One for his front, one for his back,” she said,“and then I'll stick them together.”

“Remembering,” said Ted, “to leave a hole at the end for his head and neck to
stick out. Oh yes, and two holes for his legs and another for his tail.”

“What about his wings?” Jemima asked.

“Oh yes, and two holes for his wings. He can use those to pull himself along through the water, like an oarsman. It won't matter if they get wet.”

“Well, I can't guarantee,” said Jemima's mother, “that the finished article will be completely waterproof, of course, but it should keep most of him pretty dry.”

Between the three of them they managed to hold a protesting Frank and
place the two rubber panels against him— front and back—testing for size.

“It'll be miles too big,” Jemima said.

“It will now,” said her mother, “but don't forget Frank's going to grow. And I'm not making him a whole lot of different-sized wet suits. This one will have to do.”

“Let me know how you get on,” said the vet.“I must be off.”

Carrie Tabb had never before set out to make a wet suit for a chicken, but before long Frank was having his first fitting so that she could see exactly where to make the holes for neck, wings, legs, and tail. This done, the two panels of the old
hot-water bottle were put on Frank, front and back, and then the two halves were stuck together with superglue.

At first Frank protested loudly at the treatment he was receiving, but once the finished wet suit was finally fitted on him, he seemed to be quite pleased with himself and walked about and flapped his wings and shouted, “Frank!” in a loud voice.