Chapter IV: Part 4

"Plenty," answered the Gobbler. "It is much better than it used to be. There is a new Man here, and he takes better care of his fowls than the Farmer did. He doesn't carry red handkerchiefs either."

"I don't care what kind of handkerchiefs he carries," said the Guinea-Cock. "What makes you talk about such things?"

"You would know what makes me speak of them if you were a Gobbler," was the answer. "I cannot bear red things. I cannot even eat my corn comfortably when anything red is around. You see it is quite important. Anything which spoils a fellow's fun in eating is important."

"Nothing would spoil my fun if I had the right sort of food," remarked the Guinea-Cock. Then he turned to the Guinea-Hens. "Come," he said. "We have eaten enough. Let us walk around and see the place."

All three started off, walking along where-ever they chose, and stopping to feed or to talk about what they saw. Anybody could tell by looking at them that they were related to the Turkeys, but the Gobbler had not cared to remind them of that. He was looking for more company during the time when his own family left him so much alone. He knew that before very long the Turkey Chicks would be too large to fear him, and that when that time came, their mothers and they would be willing to walk with him. Then he would have less to do with the other poultry, and might not want three bad-mannered Guinea-fowl cousins tagging along after him.

Whenever the three met another fowl, they talked about him and said exactly what they thought, and if they passed a Hen who had just found a choice bit of food, they chased her away and ate it themselves. Sometimes they even chased fowls who were not in their way and who were not eating things that they wanted. It seemed as though they had simply made up their minds to do what they wanted to do, whenever and wherever they wished. They did not make much fuss about it, and if you had seen them when they were doing none of these mean things, you would have thought them very genteel. You would never have suspected that they could act as they did.

The Gander and the Geese passed near the Guinea-fowls and the Guinea-fowls did not chase them. They were not foolish enough to annoy people so much larger than they. It is true that the Hens were larger than they, yet the Guinea-fowls could make them run every time. If they had troubled the Geese, it might have ended with the Guinea-fowls doing the running. And the Guinea-fowls were cowards. They would never quarrel with people unless they were sure of beating.

"S-s-s-s-s-s-s!" said the Gander. "Are we to have that sort of people on this farm? If we are, I would rather live somewhere else. I do not see why there should be any disagreeable people anyway."

"There should not be," said the Geese, who always agreed with everything the Gander said, and who really believed as he did about this. "Disagreeable people should be sent away, or eaten up, or something."

Both the Gander and the Geese thought themselves exceedingly agreeable, and so they were--when everything suited them. At other times they were often quite cross. Many people act like this, and seem to think it very sweet of them not to be cross all the time. Truly agreeable people, as you very well know, are those who can keep pleasant when things go wrong.

"Ca-mac!" said the three Guinea-fowls together. "There are some of those stupid Geese, who are always walking around and eating grass that is too short for anybody else. They eat grass, and grow feathers for Farmers' Wives to pluck off. When we have gone to the trouble of growing a fine coat of feathers, we keep them as long as we wish, and then they drop out, a few at a time. If anybody wants our feathers, he must follow around after us and pick them up."

Before night came, the Guinea-fowls had met and annoyed nearly all the poultry on the place. They had even made dashes at the smallest Chickens and frightened them dreadfully. The Man had been too busy to see much of the trouble that they made, but his Little Girls noticed it, for they had been watching the Guinea-fowls and hoping to find some of their beautiful spotted feathers lying around. When the Little Girls were eating their supper of bread and milk, they told their father about it.

"They walk around and look too good for anything," said the brown-haired one, "but whenever they get a chance they chase the Hens and the Chickens."

"Yes," said the golden-haired Little Girl, "I even saw one of them scare the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen, the one who ate bread and salt with you."

"That is very bad," said the Man, gravely. "Any fowl that troubles the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen must be punished."

"What will you do to them?" asked the golden-haired Little Girl. "I think you will have to shut them up. You couldn't spank them, could you? Not even if you wanted to ever so much."

"I shall decide to-night how to punish them," said the Man, "and then in the morning we will see about it." When he spoke he did not know how much time he would spend in thinking about the Guinea-fowls that night.

When it was time for them to go to roost, the Guinea-fowls fluttered and hopped upward until they reached quite a high branch in the apple-tree by the Man's chamber window. Then, instead of going to sleep for the night, as one would think they would wish to do, they took short naps and awakened from time to time to visit with each other. It is true that they had seen much that was new during the day, and so had more than usual to talk about, but this was really no excuse, because they had the habit of talking much at night and would have been nearly as noisy if nothing at all had happened.

The Man was just going to sleep when they awakened from one of their naps and began to chat. "Ca-mac! Ca-mac!" said one. "I suppose those stupid fowls in the poultry-house are sound asleep, with their heads tucked under their wings. What do you think of the company here?"

"Good enough," said another. "I don't like any of them very much, but you can't expect Geese and Ducks to be Guinea-fowls. We don't have to talk to them. The Gobbler is trying to be agreeable, and when the Hen Turkeys can think of any thing besides their children we may find them good company."

"It is a good thing that there are so many Hens here," said the third. "The Man throws out their grain and then we can scare them away and eat all we want of it. What fun it is to see Hens run when they are frightened!"

After this short visit they went to sleep again, and so did the Man. But they went to sleep much more quickly than he did, and he was very tired and disliked being disturbed in that way. He had just fallen asleep when one of the Guinea-Hens awakened again. "Ca-mac!" said she to the others. "Ca-mac! Ca-mac! I have thought of something to say. How do you like the idea of living on this place?"

"We like it," answered the Guinea-Cock and the other Guinea-Hen. Then they went on to tell why they liked it. They said that there were no children of the stone-throwing kind, no Dog, and no Cat. They had plenty of room for the long walks which they liked to take, and there were many chances to get the food which the Man threw out. When they had spoken of all these things the Guinea-Cock said: "It is decided then that we will stay here instead of running away to another farm. This is a good enough place for any fowl. Now let us take another nap."

While they were thinking this, the Man was thinking something quite different. In the morning while the Guinea-fowls were eating grain which had been strewn in one of the yards, the Man closed the gate, and, helped by the Little Girls, drove the three Guinea-fowls into a corner and caught them. Then he put them into the crate in which they had come, and took them across the road to the Farmer who lived there.

When this was done there were many happy people left behind on the poultry-farm. The Little Girls were happy, because they had found four feathers which the Guinea-fowls lost in trying to get away from the Man. The Hens were happy, because they could now be more sure of eating the food which they found. The other poultry were glad to think that they would not have to listen to new-comers saying such dreadful things about them, and perhaps the Man, when he came back, was the happiest of all. "I gave them to the Farmer over there," he said, "and he will give them to a poor family far away. I have stopped keeping Guinea-fowls to scare away the Crows. I would rather keep Crows to scare away the Guinea-fowls, but I think we can get along very comfortably without either." And the poultry thought so too.

THE GEESE AND THE BABY

The Little Girls had gone to play with a new friend who lived down the road, and the Man was working in the farthest field of the farm. The Baby had been laid in the crib for his afternoon nap, and his mother went up-stairs to work at her house-cleaning. She thought that she might possibly finish two closets if the baby did not awaken and call her too soon. She felt sure that she would know when he awakened, because she left the staircase door ajar, and he usually cried a little as soon as he got his eyes open.

This time, however, the Baby slept only a few minutes and did not cry at all. He had grown a great deal since he came to live on the farm, and was becoming very strong and independent. When he opened his eyes he made no sound, but lay there quietly staring at the ceiling until he heard one of the Cocks crowing outside. He had always wanted to catch that tallest Cock and hug him--he looked so soft and warm--and now was the time to try it. When his mother was around she sometimes held his dress or one of the shoulder-straps of his little overalls and would not let him catch the Cock. He would crawl out of his crib alone and go out very quietly to try it.

The Baby pulled himself up by the rounds of his crib, and tumbled over its railing onto his mother's bed, which stood beside it. From that he slid to the floor. It took him only two minutes more to get out of the side door and down the steps. It did not take at all long for the steps, because he fell more than half the distance. If he had not been running away, or if there had been anybody around to pity him, he would have cried, but to cry now might spoil all his fun, so he picked himself up without making a sound and started for the Shanghai Cock.

The Shanghai Cock was on the ground when the Baby began toddling toward him. As the Baby came nearer he began to walk off. "I don't want to be caught," said he. "It is bad enough to have grown people catch me, but it would be worse to have a Baby do so, for he might choke me."

"Here, pitty Chickie!" said the Baby. "Baby want oo." Then he tried to run, and fell down instead.

The Barred Plymouth Rock Hen looked at him pityingly. "Just the way my Chickens used to act when trying to catch a Grasshopper," said she. "It is so hard for children to learn that they cannot have everything they want."

When the Baby tumbled, the Shanghai Cock stood still, and even picked up a couple of mouthfuls of food. When the Baby got up again, the Shanghai Cock moved on. At last the Cock decided to put a stop to this sort of game, in which the Baby seemed to be having all the fun, so he flew to the top of the pasture fence and crowed as loudly as he could. The Baby's mother heard him as she worked busily upstairs. "How loudly that Cock does crow!" said she. "I am glad that such noises do not wake the Baby. He is having a fine nap to-day." Then she unrolled another bundle of pieces and paid no more attention to the crowing.

When the Baby saw that he could not reach the Cock, he thought he would try for some of the other fowls. The Gobbler came in sight just then and he started after him. Luckily he had no red on, or it might have been the Gobbler who did the chasing. "Here, pitty Chickie!" said the Baby. "Tum, pitty Chickie! Tum to Baby."

It was the first time the Gobbler had ever been been called a "pitty Chickie," but that made no difference. He did not want to be petted and he did not want to be caught. Baby might open and shut his tiny fat hands as many times as he pleased, beckoning to him. The Gobbler would not come. "Gobble-gobble-gobble!" said he. "Nobody can catch me in daylight, not even with corn; and surely nobody can catch me without it." Then he strutted slowly away.

The Baby followed, but when the Gobbler pretended to lose his temper, stood all his feathers on end, spread his fine tail, dragged his wings on the ground, and puffed, the Baby turned and ran away as fast as he could. Brown Bess was no longer in the pasture, and the gate stood open. It was through this gate that the Baby ran, not stopping until he came within sight of the river along the lower edge of the pasture. The water looked so bright and beautiful that he thought he would go farther still. Perhaps he could even catch some of the Ducks and Geese that were swimming there. He had seen his sisters wade in the edge of the river one day, while his father was mending a fence near by. He would wade, too.

You see Baby was only two years old, and did not understand that rivers are very dangerous places for children to visit alone, and worst of all for Babies who toddle and tumble along. He did not know that if he should tumble in that beautiful shining water he might never be able to get up again, or that if he should chase one of the Ducks too far out, he could not turn around and come back to the shore. These things he was not old enough to know. He did know that when he came into the pasture with his father or mother and went toward the river's edge, he was always told, "No-no!" This he remembered, but that made it seem all the more fun to go there when there was nobody by to say it.

The Baby stood on a little knoll near the water. "Here, pitty Chickie!" he said. "Tum to Baby, pitty Chickie!"

The Ducks paid no attention to him, unless it were to swim farther from shore and keep their heads turned slightly toward him, watching to see what he was about. With the Geese, however, it was different.

Geese do not like anything strange, and if they cannot understand a thing they think that there is certainly something wrong. As there is much which they do not understand, the Geese are often greatly excited over very simple and harmless things, hissing loudly at those who are strangers to them. Now they could not understand why the Baby should stand on the river-bank and talk to them. "S-s-s-s-s!" said the Gander. "There must be something wrong about this. Let us get out of the water to see."

He scrambled up onto the bank, with his wife and the other Geese following closely behind him. He was a very stately fellow, and looked as though he could win in almost any fight. The Geese were stately too, but their legs and neck did not look so strong as his, and they let him go ahead and speak first. The Gander marched toward the Baby and stood between him and the river. "S-s-s-s-s!" said he. "What are you doing here?"

"Here, pitty Chickie!" said the Baby. "Tum to Baby."

"I cannot understand you," said the Gander, severely. "Children should speak so that they can be understood. I can always understand my own children." He was very proud of the brood of Goslings which he and his wife had hatched. Perhaps he was even more fond of them because he had done almost as much for them as she, sitting on the eggs part of the time and standing beside her while she was sitting on them. Ganders are excellent fathers.

"Go way, pitty Chickie!" said the Baby. "Baby goin' in de watty."

"S-s-s-s-s!" said the Gander, and this time his wife hissed also. "Go back to the place where you belong. This place is for web-footed people. I have seen your feet uncovered, and you have no webs whatever between your toes. You do not belong here. Go away!"

The Baby did not go away, for he was having a lovely time. The Gander did not come any nearer to him or act as though he meant to peck him, so he just laughed and waved his hands. "Why don't you go?" asked the Geese. "The Gander told you to go away, and you should mind the Gander. We always mind him, and so should you."

Still the Gander and the Geese did not come nearer to him, and still the Baby was not afraid. "S-s-s-s-s!" repeated the Gander. "We do not want you to swim in our river. Your body is not the right shape for swimming with Geese and Ducks. Your neck is not long enough for feeding in the river. You could never get your mouth down to the river-bottom for food without going way under. Go away! You will get wet if you go into the water. I feel quite sure that you will, for you have not nicely oiled feathers like ours. You will try to catch our children and will make us much trouble. Go away!"

Just then the Baby's mother called from the door of the house. She had come downstairs and found the Baby gone. "Baby!" said she. "Baby! Where are you?"

Baby did not answer, but he turned to look at her. "S-s-s-s-s!" said the Gander and the Geese together. "S-s-s-s-s! S-s-s-s-s!" Then they walked straight for him, and the Baby started home at last. His mother heard and ran toward him in time to see it all. She understood, too, that if it had not been for the Gander and the Geese, her Baby would have gone into the river. That was why she looked so gratefully at them when she reached him and picked him up in her arms to hug and kiss.

Perhaps it was because she had been so frightened that she had to sit right down on a little hillock and rest. The Gander and the Geese stood around and wondered why she made such a fuss over the Baby. "He is nothing remarkable," they said to each other. "He certainly could not swim if he had a chance, and we saw how often he fell down when he tried to run. Why does she put her mouth up against his in that way? There is simply no understanding the actions of people who live in houses."

There was one sort of action which they could understand very well indeed. The Little Girls came home just then and their mother had them bring oats from the barn to scatter on the river. Then the Gander, with his wife and the other Geese, gladly went back to the river to feed, for there is nothing which pleases Geese better than to eat oats that are floating on the water.

THE FOWLS HAVE A JOKE PLAYED ON THEM

When the Man first bought the farm and came to live there, he could not understand a thing that his poultry said. This made it very hard for him, and was something which he could not learn from his books and papers. You remember how the Little Girls understood, better than he, what the Cocks meant by crowing so joyfully one day. It is often true that children who think much about such things and listen carefully come to know what fowls mean when they talk.

The Man was really a very clever one, much more clever than the Farmer who had lived there before him, and he decided that since he was to spend much of his time among poultry, he would learn to understand what they were saying. He began to listen very carefully and to notice what they did when they made certain sounds. It is quite surprising how much people can learn by using their eyes and ears carefully, and without asking questions, too.

That was why, before the summer was over, the Man could tell quite correctly, whenever a fowl spoke, whether he was hungry or happy or angry or scared. Not only these, but many other things he could tell by carefully listening. He could not understand a Hen in exactly the way in which her Chickens understand her, but he understood well enough to help him very much in his work. Then he tried talking the poultry language. That was much harder, yet he kept on trying, for he was not the sort of Man to give up just because the task was hard. He had been a teacher for many years, and he knew how much can be done by studying hard and sticking to it.

The Man was very full of fun, too, since he had grown so strong and fat on the farm. He dearly loved a joke, and was getting ready to play a very big joke on some of his poultry.

Anybody who has ever kept Hens knows how hard it is to drive them into the poultry-house when they do not wish to go. People often run until they are quite out of breath and red in the face, trying to make even one Hen go where she should. Sometimes they throw stones, and this is very bad for the Hens, for even if they are not hit, they are frightened, and then the eggs which they lay are not so good. Sometimes, too, the people who are trying to drive Hens lose their temper, and this is one of the very worst things that could happen.

The poultry had not paid much attention to the Man when he was learning their language. They were usually too busy talking to each other to listen to what he was saying. Once the Shanghai Cock said what he thought of it, however: "Just hear him!" he had said. "Hear that Man trying to crow! He does it about as well as a Hen would."

You know a Hen tries to crow once in a while, and then the Cocks all poke fun at her, because she never succeeds well. All this happened before the Man had been long on the farm, and before the Shanghai Cock had learned to like him. The Shanghai Cock would have been very much surprised if anybody had then told him that he would ever be unable to tell the Man's voice from that of one of his best friends.

Throughout the summer the fowls who had always lived on the farm were allowed to run wherever they wished during the day, and were not driven into the pen at night. There was always some corn scattered in their own yard for them just before roosting-time, and they were glad enough to stroll in and get it. When they finished eating they were sure to find the outer gate closed, and then they went inside the pen to roost. Now, however, the days were growing much shorter and the nights cooler, and a Skunk had begun prowling around after dark. The Man decided that if he wanted to keep his poultry safe, he must have them in the pens quite early and shut all the openings through which a night-hunting animal might enter to catch them. He liked to attend to this before he ate his own supper, and the poultry did not wish to go to roost quite so early. They often talked of it as they ate their supper in the yard.

"I think," said the Brown Hen, "that something should be done to stop the Man's driving us into the pen before we are ready to go. It is very annoying."

"Annoying?" said the White Cock, who was a great friend of hers. "I should say it is annoying! I hadn't half eaten my supper last night when I heard him saying, 'Shoo! Shoo!' and saw him and the Little Girls getting ready to drive us in."

"Well, you might better eat a little faster the next time," said the Black Hen. "I saw you fooling around when you might have been eating, and then you grumbled because you hadn't time to finish your supper."

"I would rather fool around a little than to choke on a big mouthful, the way you did," replied the White Cock, who did not often begin a quarrel, but was always ready to keep it up. "I was hungry all night," he added.

"It is so senseless," said the Brown Hen. "He might just as well drive us in after we have had time enough for our supper, or even wait until we go in without driving. I have made up my mind not to go to-night until I am ready."

"What if they try to drive you?" asked the White Cock.

"I will run this way and that, and flutter and squawk as hard as I can," replied the Brown Hen.

The Black Hen laughed in her cackling way. "I will do the same," said she. "It will serve the Man right for trying to send us to roost so early. I think he will find it pretty hard work."

The White Cock would make no promises. He wanted to see the Hens run away from the Man, but thought he would rather stand quietly in a corner than to flutter around. He was afraid of acting like a Hen if he made too much fuss, and no Cock wishes to act like a Hen.

The Shanghai Cock felt in the same way. "I am too big for running to and fro," said he, "but I will keep out of the pen and watch the fun."

He had hardly spoken these words when the Man and the Little Girls came into the yard and closed the gate behind them. The poultry kept on eating, but watched them as they ate. Suddenly the Brown Hen picked up a small boiled potato that she had found among the other food, and ran with it in her bill to the farthest corner of the yard. The Black Hen ran after her and the other Hens after them. The Cocks remained behind and watched.

The Man and the Little Girls tried to get between the Hens and the farthest side of the fence. The Hens would not let them for a while, but kept running back and forth there, until the potato had fallen to pieces and been trampled on without any one having a taste. When the Man and the Little Girls finally got behind the Hens, the Little Girls spread out their skirts and flapped them and the Man said, "Shoo! Shoo!"

Then the Hens acted dreadfully frightened, and the Cocks began to turn their heads quickly from side to side, quite as though they were looking for a chance to get away. They were really having a great deal of fun. Whenever the Man thought that he had them all ready to go into the open door of the pen, one of the Hens would turn with a frightened squawk and flutter wildly past him again to the back end of the yard, and then the Man would have to begin all over. Several of the Hens dropped loose feathers, and it was very exciting.

"Well," said the Shanghai Cock, as the Man went back the fifth time for a new start, "I think that Man will leave us alone after to-night."

"Yes," said the White Cock, who was standing near him, "I think we are teaching him a lesson."

He spoke quite as though he and the other Cock were doing it, instead of just standing by and watching the Hens. But that is often the way with Cocks.

After the Man had tried once more and failed, he certainly acted as though he was ready to give up the task. He walked to the back end of the yard, took off his hat, and wiped his forehead with his handkerchief. The Little Girls stood beside him, and he picked up a feather to show them. It was a wing-feather, and he was showing them how the tiny hooks on each soft barb caught into those on the next and held it firmly.

The poultry watched him for a while and then began eating once more. They thought him quite discouraged.

The Shanghai Cock and the White Cock were standing far apart when somebody called "Er-ru-u-u-u-u!" which is the danger signal. As soon as he heard it, each Cock thought that the other had spoken, and opened his bill and said, "Er-ru-u-u-u-u!" in the same tone, even before he looked around for a Hawk or an Eagle.

Every Hen in the yard ducked her head and ran for the door of the pen as fast as her legs would carry her. The Cocks let the Hens go ahead and crowd through the doorway as well as they could, but they followed closely behind. They were hardly inside when the door of the pen was closed after them and they heard the Man fastening it on the outside.

"Wasn't that a shame!" said the Brown Hen, who always thought that something was a shame. "We didn't finish our supper after all!"

"I know it," said the White Cock. "It happened very badly, and all that running had made me hungry."

"What was the danger?" asked the Shanghai Cock. "I had no time to see whether it was an Eagle or a Hawk coming."

"What do you mean?" cried the White Cock. "If I had given the alarm which took all my friends from their supper into the pen, I think I would take time to see what the danger was. Can't you tell one kind of bird from another?"

"I can if I see them," answered the Shanghai Cock, rather angrily. "I did not see this one. I looked up as soon as you gave the cry, but I saw nothing. I repeated the cry, as Cocks always do, but I saw nothing."

"Now see here," said the White Cock, as he lowered his head and looked the Shanghai Cock squarely in the eyes, "you stop talking in this way! You gave the first warning and you know it. I only repeated the call."

"I did not," retorted the Shanghai Cock, as he lowered his head and ruffled his feathers. "_You_ gave the warning and _I_ repeated it."

"He did not," interrupted the Brown Hen. "I stood right beside him, and I know he did not give the first call."

"Well," said the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen, "I was standing close to the Shanghai Cock, and _I_ know that _he_ did not give the first call." (Her Chickens were now so large that they did not need her, and she had begun running with her old friends.)

Then arose a great chatter and quarrel in the pen. Part of the Hens thought that the White Cock gave the first warning, and part of them thought that the Shanghai Cock did. Everybody was out of patience with somebody else, and all were scolding and finding fault until they really had to stop for breath. It was when they stopped that the Speckled Hen spoke for the first time. She had never been known to quarrel, and she was good-natured now.

"I believe it was the White Plymouth Rock Cock in the other yard," said she. "Why didn't we think of that before?"

"Of course!" said all the fowls together. "It was certainly the White Plymouth Rock Cock in the other yard." Then they laughed and spoke pleasantly to each other as they began to settle themselves for the night. "We might as well go to roost now," they said, "even if it is a bit early. All that running and talking was very tiring."

But it was not the White Plymouth Rock Cock who had said "Er-ru-u-u-u-u!" He and his Hens had run into their pen at the same time, and had been shut in. Only the Man and the Little Girls knew who it really was, and they never told the poultry.

THE LITTLE GIRLS GIVE A PARTY

Late in the fall, when the Man began to talk of shutting the poultry into their own yards for the winter, there came a few mild and lovely days. The Little Girls had been playing out-of-doors in their jackets, but now they left them in the house and ran around bare-headed, as they had done during the summer. All the poultry were happy over the weather, and several said that, if they thought it would last long enough, they would like to raise late broods of Chickens.

The fowls had finished moulting, and had fine coats of new feathers to keep them warm through the winter. The young Turkeys looked more and more like their mothers, for they were already nearly as large as they ever would be. The Goslings and the Ducklings had grown finely, and boasted that their legs and feet began to look rougher and more like those of the old Geese and Ducks. The Chickens were all White Plymouth Rocks this year, and the tiny red combs which showed against the snowy feathers of their heads made them very pretty. Even the Hens who had cared for them since they were hatched would not have had them any other color, although at first they had wished that their Chickens could look more like them.

In the barn all was neat and well cared for. The Man had made Brownie a warm box-stall, so that he need not be tied in a cool and narrow place whenever he stood in the barn, but might turn around and take a few steps in any direction he chose. There was plenty of fine hay in the loft for him, and the place where Brown Bess and her Calf were to stand had also been made more comfortable. There were great bins filled with grain for the poultry, and another full of fine gravel for them to eat with their meals. They had no teeth and could not chew their food, you know, so they had to swallow enough gravel, or grit, for their stomachs to use in grinding it and getting the strength out. In another place was a great pile of dust for winter dust-baths.

Everything was so well prepared for cold weather that it seemed almost funny to have warm days again. And just at this time the Little Girls had a birthday. Not two birthdays, you understand, but one, for they were twins and were now exactly six years old. They were plump and rosy Little Girls, and very strong from living so much out-of-doors. Each had a new doll for a birthday gift, and the funniest part of it was that the brown-haired Little Girl had a brown-haired doll and the golden-haired Little Girl had a golden-haired doll. That made it easy to tell which doll was which, just as the difference in hair made it easy for their parents to tell one twin from the other.

When they first awakened they were given birthday kisses instead of birthday spanks, six apiece for the years they had lived, a big one on which to grow, and another big one on which to be good. After the breakfast dishes were washed and put away, their mother made two birthday cakes for the Little Girls and put six candles on each. With all this done for them, one would certainly expect the Little Girls to be perfectly happy. But, what do you think? They could not be perfectly, blissfully happy, because they were not to have a party.

Every year before this, as far back as they could remember, they had been allowed to have a party, and this year they could not have it, because they were living on a farm and there were no other children who could come. It is true that there were two others living quite near, but these two had the measles and could not go to parties. By the time they were over the measles, the birthday would be long past, and so the Little Girls were disappointed.

It was when the brown-haired Little Girl was telling her doll about the last year's party, and the golden-haired Little Girl's eyes were filling with tears, that their mother had a bright idea. She would not tell them what it was, but asked them to care for the Baby while she went out to talk with the Man in the barn.

When she came back she told them that they might have a party after all and invite the poultry to come. "I think it will be great fun," said she, "and I am sure they have never been to a birthday party in their lives."

How happy the Little Girls were then! The Man had put a very large box just in front of the poultry-yards where the White Plymouth Rocks were kept, so that, by crowding into the corners, the Chickens on one side of the separating fence and the Cock and Hens on the other could come quite near to the box. Inside the big box was another which was to be their table, and a couple of milking stools on which they were to sit. The Baby's chair was to be brought when he came.

Of course it seemed a long time to wait until afternoon, when the party was to come off. If there had not been so much to do, the Little Girls certainly could not have been patient. It was wonderful how many things their mother could suggest. In the first place, they had to write a few invitations to pin up where the fowls could see them. Then they had to go over to the edge of the woods and hunt all along the roadside to find late flowers, bits of brake, and autumn leaves, with which to trim their box and the table. After that they took pans and got grain for their guests from the bins in the barn. These they carried to the big box and placed on the table inside. It was not long afterward that the brown-haired Little Girl found the Black Hen and the White Cock eating from these pans. "Oh, shoo!" she cried, running as fast as she could toward them and flapping her skirts. "Shoo! Shoo! It isn't time for you to come, and you mustn't eat up the party yet."

The other twin feared that, after being frightened away in this fashion, these two fowls would not want to come at the proper time, but she need not have worried. Fowls are always glad to come to a good supper, and there is much more danger of their coming too early and staying too late than there is of their not coming at all. After that the pans of grain were carried into the house to wait until the right time.

In the afternoon the twins and their dolls came out to the big box which they pretended was their house. The open side of it was toward the poultry-yards, and there was plenty of room between for the fowls who were running free to come in and get their food. The Little Girls had wanted to put on their Sunday dresses, but their mother told them that she did not think it would be really polite to the poultry, who had to wear the very same feathers that they had on every day. So the Little Girls contented themselves with having their hair done up on top of their heads and bows of yellow tissue paper pinned on the knots. This made them feel very fine indeed, and as though being six years old were almost the same as being grown up. They had some beautiful red tissue paper which they wanted to use, but when they remembered how the Gobbler felt about red, they decided to use the yellow instead. And that was both wise and kind. One should always try to make guests happy.

The Baby was not to come out until supper-time, so the Little Girls and their dolls played quite alone for a while. There was much to tell and to show the dolls, for it was the first time they had ever been on a farm, and everything must have seemed strange to them.

"Do you see that tall White Plymouth Rock Cock over there?" said the brown-haired twin to hers. "My Father says he is the most vallyoobol fowl on the farm. He cost a lot of money. I asked Father if he paid as much as ten cents for him, and he said he paid a great deal more. Just think of that! More than ten cents! You must be very polite to him."

"I will show you our kindest Hen," said the golden-haired twin to her doll. "She is coming this way now. She is the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen, and she is a peticullar friend of my Father's. She didn't cost so much as some of the others, but she is very good."

"And there comes the Speckled Hen," said the brown-haired twin. "She doesn't lay many eggs, but my Father says that she is the best Hen on the farm about taking care of lonely or sick Chickens. She is very small, but she spreads herself out so she can cover a lot, and then she cuddles them until they are happy again, and can run around with her and eat the Worms she scratches up for them."

There is no telling how much more the dolls might have learned about their new neighbors, if the Baby and the mother of the Little Girls had not come out just then. The Baby was put in his chair in the big box and given a cracker to eat, while the Little Girls stood outside and called to their company.

"Come, Chick, Chick, Chick!" they called. "Come, Chick, Chick, Chick!"

From far and near the Hens came running, with lowered heads and hurrying feet, to seize the food which they knew would be given them after that call. The Shanghai Cock and the White Cock followed more slowly, as was their habit. The Gander waddled gravely along from the farthest corner of the pasture in which the poultry-house stood, with his wife and the other Geese following solemnly behind him. The Turkeys, all together once more since the children were so large, came with rather more haste from the roadside, where they had been hunting acorns. And down by the river the Ducks and their children could be seen scrambling up onto the bank and shaking themselves. All were glad enough to come to the party as soon as they were sure it was time, but whether they had understood the invitations which had been pinned around for them to read--well, who can tell about that?

The Man came from the barn to see the fun, and he and the Woman set the two birthday cakes from her basket onto the table. After she had done that, she had to pay more attention to the Baby, who kept trying to reach them with his fat little hands. The Man handed a pan of corn to each of the Little Girls. "Wait until the Ducks get here," he said. "They must have their share and there is plenty of time."

The brown-haired Little Girl felt that those who were waiting should be amused in some way, so she began to talk to them. "This is our birthday party," she said, "and we are very glad you didn't have the measles, so you could come. A party is something to eat when you are dressed up and have company. We have some corn for you because you like that best, but if you are good and polite you may have some of our cake, too."

By this time the Ducks were there, and each Little Girl began flinging handfuls of corn out to the poultry. Some of it was thrown into the yards where the White Plymouth Rocks were kept, and the rest fell between the yards and the big box. One cannot say very much for the manners of the company, yet it is quite certain that they had a good time. When they had settled down to eating quietly, the Man lighted the candles on the birthday cakes and the Woman passed a plate of bread and butter sandwiches to the three happy children around the table. The dolls did not seem to be hungry, but they must have enjoyed it very much, for they smiled all the time, even when nobody was speaking to them.

The Man and the Woman sat on a couple of old Chicken-coops by the open side of the big box, and said what a fine day it was, and how good everything tasted, and what a very large party it was. The Baby laughed a great deal and said "Pitty! Pitty!" every time a soft breeze made the candle-flames dip and waver. The most exciting time came when the candles burned low and had to be blown out by the Little Girls, with the Baby helping.

Then the cakes were cut, and the Man and the Woman and the three children in the box all had a share. The dolls were not forgotten, but even after they had been fed there was much remaining. The Barred Plymouth Rock Hen stepped daintily up to the box and stood with her left foot lifted.

"My friend, the Hen, is hinting that we should pass the cake to the other guests," said the Man, "and I think we should."

The Little Girls helped to cut it into small pieces, and then the whole family, Baby, and all, stood in the sunshine and threw the fragments to the eager poultry, while the dolls looked on. The Barred Plymouth Rock Hen walked inside the box and picked up the many crumbs around the table, while the other fowls fluttered and ran for the pieces outside. The Black Hen always picked for the largest, and the rest chased her. Their manners were certainly bad, but it was the first birthday party they had ever attended, and perhaps it is not strange that they were excited and greedy.

When the last crumb had been thrown out and not even the Black Hen could find another scrap, the Man and his family turned toward the house. The sun was already low in the sky, and the air grew cooler as night drew near. It reminded the Man that winter was coming. "It has been a happy summer," he said, "a busy and happy summer. I am strong again, and the work has gone well. I have a fine lot of fowls, and I am fond and proud of them. I think they deserve a party once in a while."

"It was the very nicest party we ever had," said the Little Girls. "We ought to invite the poultry every time."

The Barred Plymouth Rock Hen murmured softly as she walked along behind them.

"She thinks so too," said the Man.