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+<title>The Diary of a Goose Girl</title>
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+<h2>
+<a href="#startoftext">The Diary of a Goose Girl, by Kate Douglas Smith Wiggin</a>
+</h2>
+<pre>
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Diary of a Goose Girl, by Kate Douglas
+Smith Wiggin, Illustrated by Claude A. Shepperson
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Diary of a Goose Girl
+
+
+Author: Kate Douglas Smith Wiggin
+
+
+
+Release Date: May 15, 2007  [eBook #1867]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DIARY OF A GOOSE GIRL***
+</pre>
+<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p>
+<p>Transcribed from the 1902 Gay and Bird edition by David Price,
+email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/coverb.jpg">
+<img alt="Book cover" src="images/covers.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<h1>THE DIARY OF A GOOSE GIRL</h1>
+<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">by</span><br />
+KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN</p>
+<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">with 
+illustrations by</span><br />
+CLAUDE A. SHEPPERSON</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">GAY AND BIRD<br />
+<span class="smcap">22 bedford street</span>, <span 
+class="smcap">strand</span><br />
+LONDON<br />
+1902</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p01b.jpg">
+<img alt="I looked about me with what Stevenson calls a 
+&lsquo;fine dizzy, muddle-headed job&rsquo;" 
+src="images/p01s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p style="text-align: center">TO THE HENS, DUCKS, AND GEESE<br />
+WHO SO KINDLY GAVE ME<br />
+SITTINGS FOR THESE<br />
+SKETCHES THE BOOK<br />
+IS GRATEFULLY<br />
+INSCRIBED</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p1ab.jpg">
+<img alt="Thornycroft House" src="images/p1as.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p style="text-align: right"><span class="smcap">Thornycroft 
+Farm</span>, near Barbury Green, July 1, 190-.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p1b.jpg">
+<img alt="Picture of woman and goose" src="images/p1b.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>In alluding to myself as a Goose Girl, I am using only the 
+most modest of my titles; for I am also a poultry-maid, a tender 
+of Belgian hares and rabbits, and a shepherdess; but I 
+particularly fancy the r&ocirc;le of Goose Girl, because it 
+recalls the German fairy tales of my early youth, when I always 
+yearned, but never hoped, to be precisely what I now am.</p>
+<p>As I was jolting along these charming Sussex roads the other 
+day, a fat buff pony and a tippy cart being my manner of 
+progression, I chanced upon the village of Barbury Green.</p>
+<p>One glance was enough for any woman, who, having eyes to see, 
+could see with them; but I made assurance doubly sure by driving 
+about a little, struggling to conceal my new-born passion from 
+the stable-boy who was my escort.&nbsp; Then, it being high noon 
+of a cloudless day, I descended from the trap and said to the 
+astonished yokel: &ldquo;You may go back to the Hydropathic; I am
+spending a month or two here.&nbsp; Wait a 
+moment&mdash;I&rsquo;ll send a message, please!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I then scribbled a word or two to those having me in 
+custody.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am very tired of people,&rdquo; the note ran, 
+&ldquo;and want to rest myself by living a while with 
+things.&nbsp; Address me (if you must) at Barbury Green 
+post-office, or at all events send me a box of simple clothing 
+there&mdash;nothing but shirts and skirts, please.&nbsp; I cannot
+forget that I am only twenty miles from Oxenbridge (though it 
+might be one hundred and twenty, which is the reason I adore it),
+but I rely upon you to keep an honourable distance yourselves, 
+and not to divulge my place of retreat to others, especially 
+to&mdash;you know whom!&nbsp; Do not pursue me.&nbsp; I will 
+never be taken alive!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Having cut, thus, the cable that bound me to civilisation, and
+having seen the buff pony and the dazed yokel disappear in a 
+cloud of dust, I looked about me with what Stevenson calls a 
+&ldquo;fine, dizzy, muddle-headed joy,&rdquo; the joy of a 
+successful rebel or a liberated serf.&nbsp; Plenty of money in my
+purse&mdash;that was unromantic, of course, but it simplified 
+matters&mdash;and nine hours of daylight remaining in which to 
+find a lodging.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p3b.jpg">
+<img alt="Life converges there, just at the public duck-pond" 
+src="images/p3s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>The village is one of the oldest, and I am sure it must be one
+of the quaintest, in England.&nbsp; It is too small to be printed
+on the map (an honour that has spoiled more than one Arcadia), so
+pray do not look there, but just believe in it, and some day you 
+may be rewarded by driving into it by chance, as I did, and feel 
+the same Columbus thrill running, like an electric current, 
+through your veins.&nbsp; I withhold specific geographical 
+information in order that you may not miss that Columbus thrill, 
+which comes too seldom in a world of railroads.</p>
+<p>The Green is in the very centre of Barbury village, and all 
+civic, political, family, and social life converges there, just 
+at the public duck-pond&mdash;a wee, sleepy lake with a slope of 
+grass-covered stones by which the ducks descend for their 
+swim.</p>
+<p>The houses are set about the Green like those in a toy 
+village.&nbsp; They are of old brick, with crumpled, up-and-down 
+roofs of deep-toned red, and tufts of stonecrop growing from the 
+eaves.&nbsp; Diamond-paned windows, half open, admit the sweet 
+summer air; and as for the gardens in front, it would seem as if 
+the inhabitants had nothing to do but work in them, there is such
+a riotous profusion of colour and bloom.&nbsp; To add to the 
+effect, there are always pots of flowers hanging from the trees, 
+blue flax and yellow myrtle; and cages of Java sparrows and 
+canaries singing joyously, as well they may in such a 
+paradise.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p5b.jpg">
+<img alt="The houses are set about the Green" 
+src="images/p5s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>The shops are idyllic, too, as if Nature had seized even the 
+man of trade and made him subservient to her designs.&nbsp; The 
+general draper&rsquo;s, where I fitted myself out for a day or 
+two quite easily, is set back in a tangle of poppies and sweet 
+peas, Madonna lilies and Canterbury bells.&nbsp; The shop itself 
+has a gay awning, and what do you think the draper has suspended 
+from it, just as a picturesque suggestion to the passer-by?&nbsp;
+Suggestion I call it, because I should blush to use the word 
+advertisement in describing anything so dainty and 
+decorative.&nbsp; Well, then, garlands of shoes, if you 
+please!&nbsp; Baby bootlets of bronze; tiny ankle-ties in yellow,
+blue, and scarlet kid; glossy patent-leather pumps shining in the
+sun, with festoons of slippers at the corners, flowery slippers 
+in imitation Berlin wool-work.&nbsp; If you make this picture in 
+your mind&rsquo;s-eye, just add a window above the awning, and 
+over the fringe of marigolds in the window-box put the 
+draper&rsquo;s wife dancing a rosy-cheeked baby.&nbsp; Alas! my 
+words are only black and white, I fear, and this picture needs a 
+palette drenched in primary colours.</p>
+<p>Along the street, a short distance, is the old 
+watchmaker&rsquo;s.&nbsp; Set in the hedge at the gate is a glass
+case with <i>Multum in Parvo</i> painted on the woodwork.&nbsp; 
+Within, a little stand of trinkets revolves slowly; as slowly, I 
+imagine, as the current of business in that quiet street.&nbsp; 
+The house stands a trifle back and is covered thickly with ivy, 
+while over the entrance-door of the shop is a great round clock 
+set in a green frame of clustering vine.&nbsp; The hands pointed 
+to one when I passed the watchmaker&rsquo;s garden with its 
+thicket of fragrant lavender and its murmuring bees; so I went in
+to the sign of the &ldquo;Strong i&rsquo; the Arm&rdquo; for some
+cold luncheon, determining to patronise &ldquo;The Running 
+Footman&rdquo; at the very next opportunity.&nbsp; Neither of 
+these inns is starred by Baedeker, and this fact adds the last 
+touch of enchantment to the picture.</p>
+<p>The landlady at the &ldquo;Strong i&rsquo; the Arm&rdquo; 
+stabbed me in the heart by telling me that there were no 
+apartments to let in the village, and that she had no private 
+sitting-room in the inn; but she speedily healed the wound by 
+saying that I might be accommodated at one of the farm-houses in 
+the vicinity.&nbsp; Did I object to a farm-&rsquo;ouse?&nbsp; 
+Then she could cheerfully recommend the Evan&rsquo;s farm, only 
+&rsquo;alf a mile away.&nbsp; She &rsquo;ad understood from Miss 
+Ph&oelig;be Evan, who sold her poultry, that they would take one 
+lady lodger if she didn&rsquo;t wish much waiting upon.</p>
+<p>In my present mood I was in search of the strenuous life, and 
+eager to wait, rather than to be waited upon; so I walked along 
+the edge of the Green, wishing that some mentally unbalanced 
+householder would take a sudden fancy to me and ask me to come in
+and lodge awhile.&nbsp; I suppose these families live under their
+roofs of peach-blow tiles, in the midst of their blooming 
+gardens, for a guinea a week or thereabouts; yet if they 
+&ldquo;undertook&rdquo; me (to use their own phrase), the bill 
+for my humble meals and bed would be at least double that.&nbsp; 
+I don&rsquo;t know that I blame them; one should have proper 
+compensation for admitting a world-stained lodger into such an 
+Eden.</p>
+<p>When I was searching for rooms a week ago, I chanced upon a 
+pretty cottage where the woman had sometimes let 
+apartments.&nbsp; She showed me the premises and asked me if I 
+would mind taking my meals in her own dining-room, where I could 
+be served privately at certain hours: and, since she had but the 
+one sitting-room, would I allow her to go on using it 
+occasionally? also, if I had no special preference, would I take 
+the second-sized bedroom and leave her in possession of the 
+largest one, which permitted her to have the baby&rsquo;s crib by
+her bedside?&nbsp; She thought I should be quite as comfortable, 
+and it was her opinion that in making arrangements with lodgers, 
+it was a good plan not to &ldquo;bryke up the &rsquo;ome any more
+than was necessary.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Bryke up the &rsquo;ome!&rdquo;&nbsp; That is seemingly
+the malignant purpose with which I entered Barbury Green.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER II</h2>
+<p style="text-align: right">July 4th.</p>
+<p>Enter the family of Thornycroft Farm, of which I am already a 
+member in good and regular standing.</p>
+<p>I introduce Mrs. Heaven first, for she is a self-saturated 
+person who would never forgive the insult should she receive any 
+lower place.</p>
+<p>She welcomed me with the statement: &ldquo;We do not take 
+lodgers here, nor boarders; no lodgers, nor boarders, but we do 
+occasionally admit paying guests, those who look as if they would
+appreciate the quietude of the plyce and be willing as you might 
+say to remunerate according.&rdquo;</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p10b.jpg">
+<img alt="Mrs. Heaven" src="images/p10s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>I did not mind at this particular juncture what I was called, 
+so long as the epithet was comparatively unobjectionable, so I am
+a paying guest, therefore, and I expect to pay handsomely for the
+handsome appellation.&nbsp; Mrs. Heaven is short and fat; she 
+fills her dress as a pin-cushion fills its cover; she wears a cap
+and apron, and she is so full of platitudes that she would have 
+burst had I not appeared as a providential outlet for them.&nbsp;
+Her accent is not of the farm, but of the town, and smacks wholly
+of the marts of trade.&nbsp; She is repetitious, too, as well as 
+platitudinous.&nbsp; &ldquo;I &rsquo;ope if there&rsquo;s 
+anythink you require you will let us know, let us know,&rdquo; 
+she says several times each day; and whenever she enters my 
+sitting-room she prefaces her conversation with the remark: 
+&ldquo;I trust you are finding it quiet here, miss?&nbsp; 
+It&rsquo;s the quietude of the plyce that is its charm, yes, the 
+quietude.&nbsp; And yet&rdquo; (she dribbles on) &ldquo;it wears 
+on a body after a while, miss.&nbsp; I often go into Woodmucket 
+to visit one of my sons just for the noise, simply for the noise,
+miss, for nothink else in the world but the noise.&nbsp; 
+There&rsquo;s nothink like noise for soothing nerves that is worn
+threadbare with the quietude, miss, or at least that&rsquo;s my 
+experience; and yet to a strynger the quietude of the plyce is 
+its charm, undoubtedly its chief charm; and that is what our 
+paying guests always say, although our charges are somewhat 
+higher than other plyces.&nbsp; If there&rsquo;s anythink you 
+require, miss, I &rsquo;ope you&rsquo;ll mention it.&nbsp; There 
+is not a commodious assortment in Barbury Green, but we can 
+always send the pony to Woodmucket in case of urgency.&nbsp; Our 
+paying guest last summer was a Mrs. Pollock, and she was by way 
+of having sudden fancies.&nbsp; Young and unmarried though you 
+are, miss, I think you will tyke my meaning without my speaking 
+plyner?&nbsp; Well, at six o&rsquo;clock of a rainy afternoon, 
+she was seized with an unaccountable desire for vegetable 
+marrows, and Mr. &rsquo;Eaven put the pony in the cart and went 
+to Woodmucket for them, which is a great advantage to be so near 
+a town and yet &rsquo;ave the quietude.&rdquo;</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p11b.jpg">
+<img alt="Mr. Heaven" src="images/p11s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>Mr. Heaven is merged, like Mr. Jellyby, in the more shining 
+qualities of his wife.&nbsp; A line of description is too long 
+for him.&nbsp; Indeed, I can think of no single word brief 
+enough, at least in English.&nbsp; The Latin &ldquo;nil&rdquo; 
+will do, since no language is rich in words of less than three 
+letters.&nbsp; He is nice, kind, bald, timid, thin, and so 
+colourless that he can scarcely be discerned save in a strong 
+light.&nbsp; When Mrs. Heaven goes out into the orchard in search
+of him, I can hardly help calling from my window, &ldquo;Bear a 
+trifle to the right, Mrs. Heaven&mdash;now to the left&mdash;just
+in front of you now&mdash;if you put out your hands you will 
+touch him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Ph&oelig;be, aged seventeen, is the daughter of the 
+house.&nbsp; She is virtuous, industrious, conscientious, and 
+singularly destitute of physical charm.&nbsp; She is more than 
+plain; she looks as if she had been planned without any definite 
+purpose in view, made of the wrong materials, been badly put 
+together, and never properly finished off; but 
+&ldquo;plain&rdquo; after all is a relative word.&nbsp; Many a 
+plain girl has been married for her beauty; and now and then a 
+beauty, falling under a cold eye, has been thought plain.</p>
+<p>Ph&oelig;be has her compensations, for she is beloved by, and 
+reciprocates the passion of, the Woodmancote carrier, Woodmucket 
+being the English manner of pronouncing the place of his 
+abode.&nbsp; If he &ldquo;carries&rdquo; as energetically for the
+great public as he fetches for Ph&oelig;be, then he must be a 
+rising and a prosperous man.&nbsp; He brings her daily, wild 
+strawberries, cherries, birds&rsquo; nests, peacock feathers, 
+sea-shells, green hazel-nuts, samples of hens&rsquo; food, or 
+bouquets of wilted field flowers tied together tightly and held 
+with a large, moist, loving hand.&nbsp; He has fine curly hair of
+sandy hue, which forms an aureole on his brow, and a reddish 
+beard, which makes another inverted aureole to match, round his 
+chin.&nbsp; One cannot look at him, especially when the sun 
+shines through him, without thinking how lovely he would be if 
+stuffed and set on wheels, with a little string to drag him 
+about.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p13b.jpg">
+<img alt="The Woodmancote carrier" src="images/p13s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>Ph&oelig;be confided to me that she was on the eve of loving 
+the postman when the carrier came across her horizon.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It doesn&rsquo;t do to be too hysty, does it, 
+miss?&rdquo; she asked me as we were weeding the onion bed.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;I was to give the postman his answer on the Monday night, 
+and it was on the Monday morning that Mr. Gladwish made his first
+trip here as carrier.&nbsp; I may say I never wyvered from that 
+moment, and no more did he.&nbsp; When I think how near I came to
+promising the postman it gives me a turn.&rdquo;&nbsp; (I can 
+understand that, for I once met the man I nearly promised years 
+before to marry, and we both experienced such a sense of relief 
+at being free instead of bound that we came near falling in love 
+for sheer joy.)</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p14.jpg">
+<img alt="Picture of toy on wheels" src="images/p14.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>The last and most important member of the household is the 
+Square Baby.&nbsp; His name is Albert Edward, and he is really 
+five years old and no baby at all; but his appearance on this 
+planet was in the nature of a complete surprise to all parties 
+concerned, and he is spoiled accordingly.&nbsp; He has a square 
+head and jaw, square shoulders, square hands and feet.&nbsp; He 
+is red and white and solid and stolid and slow-witted, as the 
+young of his class commonly are, and will make a bulwark of the 
+nation in course of time, I should think; for England has to 
+produce a few thousand such square babies every year for use in 
+the colonies and in the standing army.&nbsp; Albert Edward has 
+already a military gait, and when he has acquired a habit of 
+obedience at all comparable with his power of command, he will be
+able to take up the white man&rsquo;s burden with distinguished 
+success.&nbsp; Meantime I can never look at him without 
+marvelling how the English climate can transmute bacon and eggs, 
+tea and the solid household loaf into such radiant roses and 
+lilies as bloom upon his cheeks and lips.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER III</h2>
+<p style="text-align: right">July 8th.</p>
+<p>Thornycroft is by way of being a small poultry farm.</p>
+<p>In reaching it from Barbury Green, you take the first 
+left-hand road, go till you drop, and there you are.</p>
+<p>It reminds me of my &ldquo;grandmother&rsquo;s farm at 
+Older.&rdquo;&nbsp; Did you know the song when you were a 
+child?&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p>My grandmother had a very fine farm<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; &lsquo;Way down in the fields of Older.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; With a cluck-cluck here,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And a cluck-cluck there,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Here and there a cluck-cluck,<br 
+/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Cluck-cluck here and there,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Down in the fields at Older.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>It goes on for ever by the simple subterfuge of changing a few
+words in each verse.</p>
+<blockquote><p>My grandmother had a very fine farm<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; &lsquo;Way down in the fields of Older.<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; With a quack-quack here,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; And a quack-quack there,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Here and there a quack-quack,<br 
+/>
+&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Quack-quack here and there,<br />
+&nbsp;&nbsp; Down in the fields at Older.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>This is followed by the gobble-gobble, moo-moo, baa-baa, etc.,
+as long as the laureate&rsquo;s imagination and the 
+infant&rsquo;s breath hold good.&nbsp; The tune is pretty, and I 
+do not know, or did not, when I was young, a more fascinating 
+lyric.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p17b.jpg">
+<img alt="The sitting hens" src="images/p17s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>Thornycroft House must have belonged to a country gentleman 
+once upon a time, or to more than one; men who built on a bit 
+here and there once in a hundred years, until finally we have 
+this charmingly irregular and dilapidated whole.&nbsp; You go up 
+three steps into Mrs. Heaven&rsquo;s room, down two into mine, 
+while Ph&oelig;be&rsquo;s is up in a sort of turret with long, 
+narrow lattices opening into the creepers.&nbsp; There are 
+crooked little stair-cases, passages that branch off into other 
+passages and lead nowhere in particular; I can&rsquo;t think of a
+better house in which to play hide and seek on a wet day.&nbsp; 
+In front, what was once, doubtless, a green, is cut up into 
+greens; to wit, a vegetable garden, where the onions, turnips, 
+and potatoes grow cosily up to the very door-sill; the 
+utilitarian aspect of it all being varied by some scarlet-runners
+and a scattering of poppies on either side of the path.</p>
+<p>The Belgian hares have their habitation in a corner fifty feet
+distant; one large enclosure for poultry lies just outside the 
+sweetbrier hedge; the others, with all the houses and coops, are 
+in the meadow at the back, where also our tumbler pigeons are 
+kept.</p>
+<p>Ph&oelig;be attends to the poultry; it is her 
+department.&nbsp; Mr. Heaven has neither the force nor the 
+<i>finesse</i> required, and the gentle reader who thinks these 
+qualities unneeded in so humble a calling has only to spend a few
+days at Thornycroft to be convinced.&nbsp; Mrs. Heaven would be 
+of use, but she is dressing the Square Baby in the morning and 
+putting him to bed at night just at the hours when the feathered 
+young things are undergoing the same operation.</p>
+<p>A Goose Girl, like a poet, is sometimes born, sometimes 
+otherwise.&nbsp; I am of the born variety.&nbsp; No training was 
+necessary; I put my head on my pillow as a complicated product of
+modern civilisation on a Tuesday night, and on a Wednesday 
+morning I awoke as a Goose Girl.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p19b.jpg">
+<img alt="Hens . . . go to bed at a virtuous hour" 
+src="images/p19s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>My destiny slumbered during the day, but at eight 
+o&rsquo;clock I heard a terrific squawking in the direction of 
+the duck-ponds, and, aimlessly drifting in that direction, I came
+upon Ph&oelig;be trying to induce ducks and drakes, geese and 
+ganders, to retire for the night.&nbsp; They have to be driven 
+into enclosures behind fences of wire netting, fastened into 
+little rat-proof boxes, or shut into separate coops, so as to be 
+safe from their natural enemies, the rats and foxes; which, 
+obeying, I suppose, the law of supply and demand, abound in this 
+neighbourhood.&nbsp; The old ganders are allowed their liberty, 
+being of such age, discretion, sagacity, and pugnacity that they 
+can be trusted to fight their own battles.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p20b.jpg">
+<img alt="Ducks and geese . . . would roam the streets till 
+morning" src="images/p20s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>The intelligence of hens, though modest, is of such an order 
+that it prompts them to go to bed at a virtuous hour of their own
+accord; but ducks and geese have to be materially assisted, or I 
+believe they would roam till morning.&nbsp; Never did small boy 
+detest and resist being carried off to his nursery as these 
+dullards, young and old, detest and resist being driven to 
+theirs.&nbsp; Whether they suffer from insomnia, or nightmare, or
+whether they simply prefer the sweet air of liberty (and death) 
+to the odour of captivity and the coop, I have no means of 
+knowing.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p21b.jpg">
+<img alt="The pole was not long enough" src="images/p21s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>Ph&oelig;be stood by one of the duck-ponds, a long pole in her
+hand, and a helpless expression in that doughlike countenance of 
+hers, where aimless contours and features unite to make a kind of
+facial blur.&nbsp; (What does the carrier see in it?)&nbsp; The 
+pole was not long enough to reach the ducks, and 
+Ph&oelig;be&rsquo;s method lacked spirit and adroitness, so that 
+it was natural, perhaps, that they refused to leave the water, 
+the evening being warm, with an uncommon fine sunset.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p22.jpg">
+<img alt="They . . . waddle under the wrong fence" 
+src="images/p22.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>I saw the situation at once and ran to meet it with a glow of 
+interest and anticipation.&nbsp; If there is anything in the 
+world I enjoy, it is making somebody do something that he 
+doesn&rsquo;t want to do; and if, when victory perches upon my 
+banner, the somebody can be brought to say that he ought to have 
+done it without my making him, that adds the unforgettable touch 
+to pleasure, though seldom, alas! does it happen.&nbsp; Then 
+ensued the delightful and stimulating hour that has now become a 
+feature of the day; an hour in which the remembrance of the 
+table-d&rsquo;h&ocirc;te dinner at the Hydro, going on at 
+identically the same time, only stirs me to a keener joy and 
+gratitude.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p23.jpg">
+<img alt="Honking and hissing like a bewildered orchestra" 
+src="images/p23.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p24b.jpg">
+<img alt="Harried and pecked by the big geese" 
+src="images/p24s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>The ducks swim round in circles, hide under the willows, and 
+attempt to creep into the rat-holes in the banks, a stupidity so 
+crass that it merits instant death, which it somehow always 
+escapes.&nbsp; Then they come out in couples and waddle under the
+wrong fence into the lower meadow, fly madly under the 
+tool-house, pitch blindly in with the sitting hens, and out again
+in short order, all the time quacking and squawking, honking and 
+hissing like a bewildered orchestra.&nbsp; By dint of splashing 
+the water with poles, throwing pebbles, beating the shrubs at the
+pond&rsquo;s edges, &ldquo;shooing&rdquo; frantically with our 
+skirts, crawling beneath bars to head them off, and prodding them
+from under bushes to urge them on, we finally get the older ones 
+out of the water and the younger ones into some sort of relation 
+to their various retreats; but, owing to their lack of geography,
+hatred of home, and general recalcitrancy, they none of them turn
+up in the right place and have to be sorted out.&nbsp; We uncover
+the top of the little house, or the enclosure as it may be, or 
+reach in at the door, and, seizing the struggling victim, drag 
+him forth and take him where he should have had the wit to go in 
+the first instance.&nbsp; The weak ones get in with the strong 
+and are in danger of being trampled; two May goslings that look 
+almost full-grown have run into a house with a brood of ducklings
+a week old.&nbsp; There are twenty-seven crowded into one coop, 
+five in another, nineteen in another; the gosling with one leg 
+has to come out, and the duckling threatened with the gapes; 
+their place is with the &ldquo;invaleeds,&rdquo; as Ph&oelig;be 
+calls them, but they never learn the location of the hospital, 
+nor have the slightest scruple about spreading contagious 
+diseases.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p25b.jpg">
+<img alt="In solitary splendour" src="images/p25s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>Finally, when we have separated and sorted exhaustively, an 
+operation in which Ph&oelig;be shows a delicacy of discrimination
+and a fearlessness of attack amounting to genius, we count the 
+entire number and find several missing.&nbsp; Searching for their
+animate or inanimate bodies, we &ldquo;scoop&rdquo; one from 
+under the tool-house, chance upon two more who are being harried 
+and pecked by the big geese in the lower meadow, and discover one
+sailing by himself in solitary splendour in the middle of the 
+deserted pond, a look of evil triumph in his bead-like eye.&nbsp;
+Still we lack one young duckling, and he at length is found dead 
+by the hedge.&nbsp; A rat has evidently seized him and choked him
+at a single throttle, but in such haste that he has not had time 
+to carry away the tiny body.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Poor think!&rdquo; says Ph&oelig;be tearfully; 
+&ldquo;it looks as if it was &rsquo;it with some kind of a 
+wepping.&nbsp; I don&rsquo;t know whatever to do with the rats, 
+they&rsquo;re gettin&rsquo; that fearocious!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Before I was admitted into daily contact with the living goose
+(my previous intercourse with him having been carried on when 
+gravy and stuffing obscured his true personality), I thought him 
+a very Dreyfus among fowls, a sorely slandered bird, to whom 
+justice had never been done; for even the gentle Darwin is hard 
+upon him.&nbsp; My opinion is undergoing some slight 
+modifications, but I withhold judgment at present, hoping that 
+some of the follies, faults, vagaries, and limitations that I 
+observe in Ph&oelig;be&rsquo;s geese may be due to 
+Ph&oelig;be&rsquo;s educational methods, which were, before my 
+advent, those of the darkest ages.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p27b.jpg">
+<img alt="Dryshod warnings which are never heeded" 
+src="images/p27s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p style="text-align: right">July 9th.</p>
+<p>By the time the ducks and geese are incarcerated for the 
+night, the reasonable, sensible, practical-minded 
+hens&mdash;especially those whose mentality is increased and 
+whose virtue is heightened by the responsibilities of 
+motherhood&mdash;have gone into their own particular rat-proof 
+boxes, where they are waiting in a semi-somnolent state to have 
+the wire doors closed, the bricks set against them, and the bits 
+of sacking flung over the tops to keep out the draught.&nbsp; We 
+have a great many young families, both ducklings and chicks, but 
+we have no duck mothers at present.&nbsp; The variety of bird 
+which Ph&oelig;be seems to have bred during the past year may be 
+called the New Duck, with certain radical ideas about 
+woman&rsquo;s sphere.&nbsp; What will happen to Thornycroft if we
+develop a New Hen and a New Cow, my imagination fails to 
+conceive.&nbsp; There does not seem to be the slightest danger 
+for the moment, however, and our hens lay and sit and sit and lay
+as if laying and sitting were the twin purposes of life.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p28.jpg">
+<img alt="The mother goes off to bed" src="images/p28.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>The nature of the hen seems to broaden with the duties of 
+maternity, but I think myself that we presume a little upon her 
+amiability and natural motherliness.&nbsp; It is one thing to 
+desire a family of one&rsquo;s own, to lay eggs with that idea in
+view, to sit upon them three long weeks and hatch out and bring 
+up a nice brood of chicks.&nbsp; It must be quite another to have
+one&rsquo;s eggs abstracted day by day and eaten by a callous 
+public, the nest filled with deceitful substitutes, and at the 
+end of a dull and weary period of hatching to bring into the 
+world another person&rsquo;s children&mdash;children, too, of the
+wrong size, the wrong kind of bills and feet, and, still more 
+subtle grievance, the wrong kind of instincts, leading them to a 
+dangerous aquatic career, one which the mother may not enter to 
+guide, guard, and teach; one on the brink of which she must ever 
+stand, uttering dryshod warnings which are never heeded.&nbsp; 
+They grow used to this strange order of things after a bit, it is
+true, and are less anxious and excited.&nbsp; When the duck-brood
+returns safely again and again from what the hen-mother thinks 
+will prove a watery grave, she becomes accustomed to the 
+situation, I suppose.&nbsp; I find that at night she stands by 
+the pond for what she considers a decent, self-respecting length 
+of time, calling the ducklings out of the water; then, if they 
+refuse to come, the mother goes off to bed and leaves them to 
+Providence, or Ph&oelig;be.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p29.jpg">
+<img alt="Cornelia and the web-footed Gracchi" 
+src="images/p29.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>The brown hen that we have named Cornelia is the best mother, 
+the one who waits longest and most patiently for the web-footed 
+Gracchi to finish their swim.</p>
+<p>When a chick is taken out of the incubytor (as Ph&oelig;be 
+calls it) and refused by all the other hens, Cornelia generally 
+accepts it, though she had twelve of her own when we began using 
+her as an orphan asylum.&nbsp; &ldquo;Wings are made to 
+stretch,&rdquo; she seems to say cheerfully, and with a kind 
+glance of her round eye she welcomes the wanderer and the 
+outcast.&nbsp; She even tended for a time the offspring of an 
+absent-minded, light-headed pheasant who flew over a four-foot 
+wall and left her young behind her to starve; it was not a New 
+Pheasant, either; for the most conservative and old-fashioned of 
+her tribe occasionally commits domestic solecisms of this 
+sort.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p30b.jpg">
+<img alt="An orphan asylum" src="images/p30s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>There is no telling when, where, or how the maternal instinct 
+will assert itself.&nbsp; Among our Thornycroft cats is a certain
+Mrs. Greyskin.&nbsp; She had not been seen for many days, and 
+Mrs. Heaven concluded that she had hidden herself somewhere with 
+a family of kittens; but as the supply of that article with us 
+more than equals the demand, we had not searched for her with 
+especial zeal.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p31b.jpg">
+<img alt="Ph&oelig;be and I followed her stealthily" 
+src="images/p31s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>The other day Mrs. Greyskin appeared at the dairy door, and 
+when she had been fed Ph&oelig;be and I followed her stealthily, 
+from a distance.&nbsp; She walked slowly about as if her mind 
+were quite free from harassing care, and finally approached a 
+deserted cow-house where there was a great mound of straw.&nbsp; 
+At this moment she caught sight of us and turned in another 
+direction to throw us off the scent.&nbsp; We persevered in our 
+intention of going into her probable retreat, and were cautiously
+looking for some sign of life in the haymow, when we heard a soft
+cackle and a ruffling of plumage.&nbsp; Coming closer to the 
+sound we saw a black hen brooding a nest, her bright bead eyes 
+turning nervously from side to side; and, coaxed out from her 
+protecting wings by youthful curiosity, came four kittens, eyes 
+wide open, warm, happy, ready for sport!</p>
+<p>The sight was irresistible, and Ph&oelig;be ran for Mr. and 
+Mrs. Heaven and the Square Baby.&nbsp; Mother Hen was not to be 
+embarrassed or daunted, even if her most sacred feelings were 
+regarded in the light of a cheap entertainment.&nbsp; She held 
+her ground while one of the kits slid up and down her glossy 
+back, and two others, more timid, crept underneath her breast, 
+only daring to put out their pink noses!&nbsp; We retired then 
+for very shame and met Mrs. Greyskin in the doorway.&nbsp; This 
+should have thickened the plot, but there is apparently no 
+rivalry nor animosity between the co-mothers.&nbsp; We watch them
+every day now, through a window in the roof.&nbsp; Mother 
+Greyskin visits the kittens frequently, lies down beside the home
+nest, and gives them their dinner.&nbsp; While this is going on 
+Mother Blackwing goes modestly away for a bite, a sup, and a 
+little exercise, returning to the kittens when the cat leaves 
+them.&nbsp; It is pretty to see her settle down over the four, 
+fat, furry dumplings, and they seem to know no difference in 
+warmth or comfort, whichever mother is brooding them; while, as 
+their eyes have been open for a week, it can no longer be called 
+a blind error on their part.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p33b.jpg">
+<img alt="Coaxed out . . . by youthful curiosity" 
+src="images/p33s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>When we have closed all our small hen-nurseries for the night,
+there is still the large house inhabited by the thirty-two 
+full-grown chickens which Ph&oelig;be calls the broilers.&nbsp; I
+cannot endure the term, and will not use it.&nbsp; &ldquo;Now for
+the April chicks,&rdquo; I say every evening.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you mean the broilers?&rdquo; asks Ph&oelig;be.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I mean the big April chicks,&rdquo; say I.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, them are the broilers,&rdquo; says she.</p>
+<p>But is it not disagreeable enough to be a broiler when 
+one&rsquo;s time comes, without having the gridiron waved in 
+one&rsquo;s face for weeks beforehand?</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p34b.jpg">
+<img alt="Nine huddle together" src="images/p34s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>The April chicks are all lively and desirous of seeing the 
+world as thoroughly as possible before going to roost or 
+broil.&nbsp; As a general thing, we find in the large house 
+sixteen young fowls of the contemplative, flavourless, 
+resigned-to-the-inevitable variety; three more (the same three 
+every night) perch on the roof and are driven down; four (always 
+the same four) cling to the edge of the open door, waiting to fly
+off, but not in, when you attempt to close it; nine huddle 
+together on a place in the grass about forty feet distant, where 
+a small coop formerly stood in the prehistoric ages.&nbsp; This 
+small coop was one in which they lodged for a fortnight when they
+were younger, and when those absolutely indelible impressions are
+formed of which we read in educational maxims.&nbsp; It was taken
+away long since, but the nine loyal (or stupid) Casabiancas cling
+to the sacred spot where its foundations rested; they accordingly
+have to be caught and deposited bodily in the house, and this 
+requires strategy, as they note our approach from a considerable 
+distance.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p35.jpg">
+<img alt="Of a wandering mind" src="images/p35.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>Finally all are housed but two, the little white cock and the 
+black pullet, who are still impish and of a wandering mind.&nbsp;
+Though headed off in every direction, they fly into the hedges 
+and hide in the underbrush.&nbsp; We beat the hedge on the other 
+side, but with no avail.&nbsp; We dive into the thicket of wild 
+roses, sweetbrier, and thistles on our hands and knees, coming 
+out with tangled hair, scratched noses, and no hens.&nbsp; Then, 
+when all has been done that human ingenuity can suggest, 
+Ph&oelig;be goes to her late supper and I do sentry-work.&nbsp; I
+stroll to a safe distance, and, sitting on one of the rat-proof 
+boxes, watch the bushes with an eagle eye.&nbsp; Five minutes go 
+by, ten, fifteen; and then out steps the white cock, stealthily 
+tiptoeing toward the home into which he refused to go at our 
+instigation.&nbsp; In a moment out creeps the obstinate little 
+beast of a black pullet from the opposite clump.&nbsp; The 
+wayward pair meet at their own door, which I have left open a few
+inches.&nbsp; When all is still I walk gently down the field, 
+and, warned by previous experiences, approach the house from 
+behind.&nbsp; I draw the door to softly and quickly; but not so 
+quickly that the evil-minded and suspicious black pullet 
+hasn&rsquo;t time to spring out, with a make-believe squawk of 
+fright&mdash;that induces three other blameless chickens to fly 
+down from their perches and set the whole flock in a 
+flutter.&nbsp; Then I fall from grace and call her a Broiler; and
+when, after some minutes of hot pursuit, I catch her by falling 
+over her in the corner by the goose-pen, I address her as a fat, 
+juicy Broiler with parsley butter and a bit of bacon.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p36b.jpg">
+<img alt="With tangled hair, scratched noses, and no hens" 
+src="images/p36s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER V</h2>
+<p style="text-align: right">July 10th.</p>
+<p>At ten thirty or so in the morning the cackling begins.&nbsp; 
+I wonder exactly what it means!&nbsp; Have the forest-lovers who 
+listen so respectfully to, and interpret so exquisitely, the 
+notes of birds&mdash;have none of them made psychological 
+investigations of the hen cackle?&nbsp; Can it be simple 
+elation?&nbsp; One could believe that of the first few eggs, but 
+a hen who has laid two or three hundred can hardly feel the same 
+exuberant pride and joy daily.&nbsp; Can it be the excitement 
+incident to successful achievement?&nbsp; Hardly, because the 
+task is so extremely simple.&nbsp; Eggs are more or less alike; a
+little larger or smaller, a trifle whiter or browner; and almost 
+sure to be quite right as to details; that is, the big end never 
+gets confused with the little end, they are always ovoid and 
+never spherical, and the yolk is always inside of the 
+white.&nbsp; As for a soft-shelled egg, it is so rare an 
+occurrence that the fear of laying one could not set the whole 
+race of hens in a panic; so there really cannot be any 
+intellectual or emotional agitation in producing a thing that 
+might be made by a machine.&nbsp; Can it be simply 
+&ldquo;fussiness&rdquo;; since the people who have the least to 
+do commonly make the most flutter about doing it?</p>
+<p>Perhaps it is merely conversation.&nbsp; 
+&ldquo;<i>Cut-cut-cut-cut-cut</i>-DAH<i>cut</i>! . . . I have 
+finished my strictly fresh egg, have you laid yours?&nbsp; Make 
+haste, then, for the cock has found a gap in the wire-fence and 
+wants us to wander in the strawberry-bed. . . . 
+Cut-cut-cut-cut-cut-DAH<i>cut</i> . . . Every moment is precious,
+for the Goose Girl will find us, when she gathers the 
+strawberries for her luncheon . . . Cut-cut-cut-cut!&nbsp; On the
+way out we can find sweet places to steal nests . . . 
+Cut-cut-cut! . . . I am so glad I am not sitting this heavenly 
+morning; it <i>is</i> a dull life.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>A Lancashire poultryman drifted into Barbury Green 
+yesterday.&nbsp; He is an old acquaintance of Mr. Heaven, and 
+spent the night and part of the next day at Thornycroft 
+Farm.&nbsp; He possessed a deal of fowl philosophy, and tells 
+many a good hen story, which, like fish stories, draw rather 
+largely on the credulity of the audience.&nbsp; We were sitting 
+in the rickyard talking comfortably about laying and cackling and
+kindred matters when he took his pipe from his mouth and told us 
+the following tale&mdash;not a bad one if you can translate the 
+dialect:&mdash;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Aw were once towd as, if yo&rsquo; could only get 
+th&rsquo; hen&rsquo;s egg away afooar she hed sin it, th&rsquo; 
+hen &rsquo;ud think it hed med a mistek an&rsquo; sit deawn 
+ageean an&rsquo; lay another.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;An&rsquo; it seemed to me it were a varra sensible way 
+o&rsquo; lukkin&rsquo; at it.&nbsp; Sooa aw set to wark to mek a 
+nest as &rsquo;ud tek a rise eawt o&rsquo; th&rsquo; hens.&nbsp; 
+An&rsquo; aw dud it too.&nbsp; Aw med a nest wi&rsquo; a fause 
+bottom, th&rsquo; idea bein&rsquo; as when a hen hed laid, 
+th&rsquo; egg &rsquo;ud drop through into a box underneyth.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Aw felt varra preawd o&rsquo; that nest, too, aw con 
+tell yo&rsquo;, an&rsquo; aw remember aw felt quite excited when 
+aw see an awd black Minorca, th&rsquo; best layer as aw hed, gooa
+an&rsquo; settle hersel deawn i&rsquo; th&rsquo; nest an&rsquo; 
+get ready for wark.&nbsp; Th&rsquo; hen seemed quite comfortable 
+enough, aw were glad to see, an&rsquo; geet through th&rsquo; 
+operation beawt ony seemin&rsquo; trouble.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, aw darsay yo&rsquo; know heaw a hen carries on as
+soon as it&rsquo;s laid a egg.&nbsp; It starts 
+&ldquo;chuckin&rsquo;&rdquo; away like a showman&rsquo;s racket, 
+an&rsquo; after tekkin&rsquo; a good Ink at th&rsquo; egg to see 
+whether it&rsquo;s a big &rsquo;un or a little &rsquo;un, gooas 
+eawt an&rsquo; tells all t&rsquo;other hens abeawt it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Neaw, this black Minorca, as aw sed, were a owdish 
+bird, an&rsquo; maybe knew mooar than aw thowt.&nbsp; Happen it 
+hed laid on a nest wi&rsquo; a fause bottom afooar, an&rsquo; 
+were up to th&rsquo; trick, but whether or not, aw never see a 
+hen luk mooar disgusted i&rsquo; mi life when it lukked i&rsquo; 
+th&rsquo; nest an&rsquo; see as it hed hed all that trouble fer 
+nowt.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It woked reawnd th&rsquo; nest as if it couldn&rsquo;t 
+believe its own eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But it dudn&rsquo;t do as aw expected.&nbsp; Aw 
+expected as it &rsquo;ud sit deawn ageean an&rsquo; lay 
+another.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But it just gi&rsquo;e one wonderin&rsquo; sooart 
+o&rsquo; chuck, an then, after a long stare reawnd th&rsquo; 
+hen-coyt, it woked eawt, as mad a hen as aw&rsquo;ve ever 
+sin.&nbsp; Aw fun&rsquo; eawt after, what th&rsquo; long stare 
+meant.&nbsp; It were tekkin&rsquo; farewell!&nbsp; For if 
+yo&rsquo;ll believe me that hen never laid another egg i&rsquo; 
+ony o&rsquo; my nests.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Varra like it laid away in a spot wheear it could hev 
+summat to luk at when it hed done wark for th&rsquo; day.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sooa aw lost mi best layer through mi actin&rsquo;, 
+an&rsquo; aw&rsquo;ve never invented owt sen.&rdquo;</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+<p>One learns to be modest by living on a poultry farm, for there
+are constant expositions of the most deplorable vanity among the 
+cocks.&nbsp; We have a couple of pea-fowl who certainly are an 
+addition to the landscape, as they step mincingly along the 
+square of turf we dignify by the name of lawn.&nbsp; The head of 
+the house has a most languid and self-conscious strut, and his 
+microscopic mind is fixed entirely on his splendid trailing 
+tail.&nbsp; If I could only master his language sufficiently to 
+tell him how hideously ugly the back view of this gorgeous fan 
+is, when he spreads it for the edification of the observer in 
+front of him, he would of course retort that there is a 
+&ldquo;congregation side&rdquo; to everything, but I should at 
+least force him into a defence of his tail and a confession of 
+its limitations.&nbsp; This would be new and unpleasant, I fancy;
+and if it produced no perceptible effect upon his super-arrogant 
+demeanour, I might remind him that he is likely to be used, 
+eventually, for a feather duster, unless, indeed, the Heavens are
+superstitious and prefer to throw his tail away, rather than 
+bring ill luck and the evil eye into the house.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p43.jpg">
+<img alt="More pride of bearing, and less to be proud of" 
+src="images/p43.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>The longer I study the cock, whether Black Spanish, White 
+Leghorn, Dorking, or the common barnyard fowl, the more 
+intimately I am acquainted with him, the less I am impressed with
+his character.&nbsp; He has more pride of bearing, and less to be
+proud of, than any bird I know.&nbsp; He is indolent, though he 
+struts pompously over the grass as if the day were all too short 
+for his onerous duties.&nbsp; He calls the hens about him when I 
+throw corn from the basket, but many a time I have seen him 
+swallow hurriedly, and in private, some dainty titbit he has 
+found unexpectedly.&nbsp; He has no particular chivalry.&nbsp; He
+gives no special encouragement to his hen when he becomes a 
+prospective father, and renders little assistance when the 
+responsibilities become actualities.&nbsp; His only personal 
+message or contribution to the world is his raucous 
+cock-a-doodle-doo, which, being uttered most frequently at dawn, 
+is the most ill-timed and offensive of all musical notes.&nbsp; 
+It is so unnecessary too, as if the day didn&rsquo;t come soon 
+enough without his warning; but I suppose he is anxious to waken 
+his hens and get them at their daily task, and so he disturbs the
+entire community.&nbsp; In short, I dislike him; his swagger, his
+autocratic strut, his greed, his irritating self-consciousness, 
+his endless parading of himself up and down in a procession of 
+one.</p>
+<p>Of course his character is largely the result of 
+polygamy.&nbsp; His weaknesses are only what might be expected; 
+and as for the hens, I have considerable respect for the 
+patience, sobriety, and dignity with which they endure an 
+institution particularly offensive to all women.&nbsp; In their 
+case they do not even have the sustaining thought of its being an
+article of religion, so they are to be complimented the more.</p>
+<p>There is nothing on earth so feminine as a hen&mdash;not 
+womanly, simply feminine.&nbsp; Those men of insight who write 
+the Woman&rsquo;s Page in the Sunday newspapers study hens more 
+than women, I sometimes think; at any rate, their favourite types
+are all present on this poultry farm.</p>
+<p>Some families of White Leghorns spend most of their time in 
+the rickyard, where they look extremely pretty, their slender 
+white shapes and red combs and wattles well set off by the 
+background of golden hayricks.&nbsp; There is a great oak-tree in
+one corner, with a tall ladder leaning against its trunk, and a 
+capital roosting-place on a long branch running at right angles 
+with the ladder.&nbsp; I try to spend a quarter of an hour there 
+every night before supper, just for the pleasure of seeing the 
+feathered &ldquo;women-folks&rdquo; mount that ladder.</p>
+<p>A dozen of them surround the foot, waiting restlessly for 
+their turn.&nbsp; One little white lady flutters up on the lowest
+round and perches there until she reviews the past, faces the 
+present, and forecasts the future; during which time she is 
+gathering courage for the next jump.&nbsp; She cackles, takes up 
+one foot and then the other, tilts back and forth, holds up her 
+skirts and drops them again, cocks her head nervously to see 
+whether they are all staring at her below, gives half a dozen 
+preliminary springs which mean nothing, declares she can&rsquo;t 
+and won&rsquo;t go up any faster, unties her bonnet strings and 
+pushes back her hair, pulls down her dress to cover her toes, and
+finally alights on the next round, swaying to and fro until she 
+gains her equilibrium, when she proceeds to enact the same scene 
+over again.</p>
+<p>All this time the hens at the foot of the ladder are 
+criticising her methods and exclaiming at the length of time she 
+requires in mounting; while the cocks stroll about the yard 
+keeping one eye on the ladder, picking up a seed here and there, 
+and giving a masculine sneer now and then at the too-familiar 
+scene.&nbsp; They approach the party at intervals, but only to 
+remark that it always makes a man laugh to see a woman go up a 
+ladder.&nbsp; The next hen, stirred to the depths by this speech,
+flies up entirely too fast, loses her head, tumbles off the top 
+round, and has to make the ascent over again.&nbsp; Thus it goes 
+on and on, this <i>petite com&eacute;die humaine</i>, and I could
+enjoy it with my whole heart if Mr. Heaven did not insist on 
+sharing the spectacle with me.&nbsp; He is so inexpressibly dull,
+so destitute of humour, that I did not think it likely he would 
+see in the performance anything more than a flock of hens going 
+up a ladder to roost.&nbsp; But he did; for there is no man so 
+blind that he cannot see the follies of women; and, when he 
+forgot himself so far as to utter a few genial, silly, well-worn 
+reflections upon femininity at large, I turned upon him and 
+revealed to him some of the characteristics of his own sex, 
+gained from an exhaustive study of the barnyard fowl of the 
+masculine gender.&nbsp; He went into the house discomfited, 
+though chuckling a little at my vehemence; but at least I have 
+made it for ever impossible for him to watch his hens without an 
+occasional glance at the cocks.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p46b.jpg">
+<img alt="Mr. Heaven discomfited" src="images/p46s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+<p style="text-align: right">July 12th.</p>
+<p>O the pathos of a poultry farm!&nbsp; Catherine of Aragon, the
+black Spanish hen that stole her nest, brought out nine chicks 
+this morning, and the business-like and marble-hearted 
+Ph&oelig;be has taken them away and given them to another hen who
+has only seven.&nbsp; Two mothers cannot be wasted on these small
+families&mdash;it would not be profitable; and the older mother, 
+having been tried and found faithful over seven, has been given 
+the other nine and accepted them.&nbsp; What of the bereft 
+one?&nbsp; She is miserable and stands about moping and forlorn, 
+but it is no use fighting against the inevitable; hens&rsquo; 
+hearts must obey the same laws that govern the rotation of 
+crops.&nbsp; Catherine of Aragon feels her lot a bitter one just 
+now, but in time she will succumb, and lay, which is more to the 
+point.</p>
+<p>We have had a very busy evening, beginning with the 
+rats&rsquo; supper&mdash;delicate sandwiches of bread-and-butter 
+spread with Paris green.</p>
+<p>We have a new brood of seventeen ducklings just hatched this 
+afternoon.&nbsp; When we came to the nest the yellow and brown 
+bunches of down and fluff were peeping out from under the 
+hen&rsquo;s wings in the prettiest fashion in the world.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a noble hen!&rdquo; I said to 
+Ph&oelig;be.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She ain&rsquo;t so nowble as she looks,&rdquo; 
+Ph&oelig;be answered grimly.&nbsp; &ldquo;It was another 
+&rsquo;en that brooded these eggs for near on three weeks and 
+then this big one come along with a fancy she&rsquo;d like a 
+family &rsquo;erself if she could steal one without too much 
+trouble; so she drove the rightful &rsquo;en off the nest, 
+finished up the last few days, and &rsquo;ere she is in 
+possession of the ducklings!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why don&rsquo;t you take them away from her and give 
+them back to the first hen, who did most of the work?&rdquo; I 
+asked, with some spirit.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Like as not she wouldn&rsquo;t tyke them now,&rdquo; 
+said Ph&oelig;be, as she lifted the hen off the broken egg-shells
+and moved her gently into a clean box, on a bed of fresh 
+hay.&nbsp; We put food and drink within reach of the family, and 
+very proud and handsome that highway robber of a hen looked, as 
+she stretched her wings over the seventeen easily-earned 
+ducklings.</p>
+<p>Going back to the old nesting-box, I found one egg forgotten 
+among the shells.&nbsp; It was still warm, and I took it up to 
+run across the field with it to Ph&oelig;be.&nbsp; It was heavy, 
+and the carrying of it was a queer sensation, inasmuch as it 
+squirmed and &ldquo;yipped&rdquo; vociferously in transit, 
+threatening so unmistakably to hatch in my hand that I was 
+decidedly nervous.&nbsp; The intrepid little youngster burst his 
+shell as he touched Ph&oelig;be&rsquo;s apron, and has become the
+strongest and handsomest of the brood.</p>
+<p>All this tending of downy young things, this feeding and 
+putting to bed, this petting and nursing and rearing, is such 
+pretty, comforting woman&rsquo;s work.&nbsp; I am sure 
+Ph&oelig;be will make a better wife to the carrier for having 
+been a poultry-maid, and though good enough for most practical 
+purposes when I came here, I am an infinitely better woman 
+now.&nbsp; I am afraid I was not particularly nice the last few 
+days at the Hydro.&nbsp; Such a lot of dull, prosy, inquisitive, 
+bothering old tabbies!&nbsp; Aunt Margaret furnishing imaginary 
+symptoms enough to keep a fond husband and two trained nurses 
+distracted; a man I had never encouraged in my life coming to 
+stay in the neighbourhood and turning up daily for rejection; 
+another man taking rooms at the very hotel with the avowed 
+purpose of making my life a burden; and on the heels of both, a 
+widow of thirty-five in full chase!&nbsp; Small wonder I thought 
+it more dignified to retire than to compete, and so I did.</p>
+<p>I need not, however, have cut the threads that bound me to 
+Oxenbridge with such particularly sharp scissors, nor given them 
+such a vicious snap; for, so far as I can observe, the little 
+world of which I imagined myself the sun continues to revolve, 
+and, probably, about some other centre.&nbsp; I can well imagine 
+who has taken up that delightful but somewhat exposed and 
+responsible position&mdash;it would be just like her!</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p51b.jpg">
+<img alt="Threatened . . . to hatch in my hand" 
+src="images/p51s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>I am perfectly happy where I am; it is not that; but it seems 
+so strange that they can be perfectly happy without me, after all
+that they&mdash;after all that was said on the subject not many 
+days ago.&nbsp; Nothing turns out as one expects.&nbsp; There 
+have been no hot pursuits, no rewards offered, no bills posted, 
+no printed placards issued describing the beauty and charms of a 
+young person who supposed herself the cynosure of every 
+eye.&nbsp; Heigh-ho!&nbsp; What does it matter, after all?&nbsp; 
+One can always be a Goose Girl!</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p>
+<p>I wonder if the hen mother is quite, quite satisfied with her 
+ducklings!&nbsp; Do you suppose the fact of hatching and brooding
+them breaks down all the sense of difference?&nbsp; Does she not 
+sometimes reflect that if her children were the ordinary sort, 
+and not these changelings, she would be enjoying certain pretty 
+little attentions dear to a mother&rsquo;s heart?&nbsp; The 
+chicks would be pecking the food off her broad beak with their 
+tiny ones, and jumping on her back to slide down her glossy 
+feathers.&nbsp; They would be far nicer to cuddle, too, so small 
+and graceful and light; the changelings are a trifle solid and 
+brawny.&nbsp; And personally, just as a matter of taste, would 
+she not prefer wee, round, glancing heads, and pointed beaks, 
+peeping from under her wings, to these teaspoon-shaped things 
+larger than her own?&nbsp; I wonder!</p>
+<p>We are training fourteen large young chickens to sit on the 
+perches in their new house, instead of huddling together on the 
+floor as has been their habit, because we discover rat-holes 
+under the wire flooring occasionally, and fear that toes may be 
+bitten.&nbsp; At nine o&rsquo;clock Ph&oelig;be and I lift the 
+chickens one by one, and, as it were, glue them to their perches,
+squawking.&nbsp; Three nights have we gone patiently through with
+this performance, but they have not learned the lesson.&nbsp; The
+ducks and geese are, however, greatly improved by the application
+of advanced educational methods, and the <i>r&eacute;gime</i> of 
+perfect order and system instituted by Me begins to show 
+results.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p53b.jpg">
+<img alt="One can always be a Goose Girl" src="images/p53s.jpg" 
+/>
+</a></p>
+<p>There is no more violent splashing and pebbling, racing, 
+chasing, separating.&nbsp; The pole, indeed, still has to be 
+produced, but at the first majestic wave of my hand they scuttle 
+toward the shore.&nbsp; The geese turn to the right, cross the 
+rickyard, and go to their pen; the May ducks turn to the left for
+their coops, the June ducks follow the hens to the top meadow, 
+and even the idiot gosling has an inspiration now and then and 
+stumbles on his own habitation.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p54.jpg">
+<img alt="The geese . . . cross the rickyard" 
+src="images/p54.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>Mrs. Heaven has no reverence for the principles of Comenius, 
+Pestalozzi, or Herbert Spencer as applied to poultry, and when 
+the ducks and geese came out of the pond badly the other night 
+and went waddling and tumbling and hissing all over creation, did
+not approve of my sending them back into the pond to start 
+afresh.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I consider it a great waste of time, of good time, 
+miss,&rdquo; she said; &ldquo;and, after all, do you consider 
+that educated poultry will be any better eating, or that it will 
+lay more than one egg a day, miss?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I have given the matter some attention, and I fear Mrs. Heaven
+is right.&nbsp; A duck, a goose, or a hen in which I have 
+developed a larger brain, implanted a sense of duty, or instilled
+an idea of self-government, is likely, on the whole, to be 
+leaner, not fatter.&nbsp; There is nothing like obeying the voice
+of conscience for taking the flesh off one&rsquo;s bones; and, 
+speaking of conscience, Ph&oelig;be, whose metaphysics are of the
+farm farmy, says that hers &ldquo;felt like a hunlaid hegg for 
+dyes&rdquo; after she had jilted the postman.</p>
+<p>As to the eggs, I am sure the birds will go on laying one a 
+day for &rsquo;tis their nature to.&nbsp; Whether the product of 
+the intelligent, conscious, logical fowl, will be as rich in 
+quality as that of the uneducated and barbaric bird, I cannot 
+say; but it ought at least to be equal to the Denmark egg eaten 
+now by all Londoners; and if, perchance, left uneaten, it is 
+certain to be a very superior wife and mother.</p>
+<p>While we are discussing the subject of educating poultry, I 
+confess that the case of Cannibal Ann gives me much 
+anxiety.&nbsp; Twice in her short career has she been under 
+suspicion of eating her own eggs, but Ph&oelig;be has never 
+succeeded in catching her <i>in flagrante delicto</i>.&nbsp; That
+eminent detective service was reserved for me, and I have been 
+haunted by the picture ever since.&nbsp; It is an awful sight to 
+witness a hen gulp her own newly-laid fresh egg, yolk, white, 
+shell, and all; to realise that you have fed, sheltered, chased, 
+and occasionally run in, a being possessed of no moral sense, a 
+being likely to set a bad example, inculcate vicious habits among
+her innocent sisters, and lower the standard of an entire 
+poultry-yard.&nbsp; <i>The Young Poultry Keeper&rsquo;s 
+Friend</i> gives us no advice on this topic, and we do not know 
+whether to treat Cannibal Ann as the victim of a disease, or as a
+confirmed criminal; whether to administer remedies or cut her off
+in the flower of her youth.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p56b.jpg">
+<img alt="Poor little chap, . . . &rsquo;e never was a fyvorite" 
+src="images/p56s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>We have had a sad scene to-night.&nbsp; A chick has been 
+ailing all day, and when we shut up the brood we found him dead 
+in a corner.</p>
+<p>Ph&oelig;be put him on the ground while she busied herself 
+about the coop.&nbsp; The other chicks came out and walked about 
+the dead one again and again, eyeing him curiously.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Poor little chap!&rdquo; said Ph&oelig;be.&nbsp; 
+&ldquo;&rsquo;E&rsquo;s never &rsquo;ad a mother!&nbsp; &rsquo;E 
+was an incubytor chicken, and wherever I took &rsquo;im &rsquo;e 
+was picked at.&nbsp; There was somethink wrong with &rsquo;im; 
+&rsquo;e never was a fyvorite!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I put the fluffy body into a hole in the turf, and strewed a 
+handful of grass over him.&nbsp; &ldquo;Sad little 
+epitaph!&rdquo; I thought.&nbsp; &ldquo;He never was a 
+fyvorite!&rdquo;</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+<p style="text-align: right">July 13th.</p>
+<p>I like to watch the Belgian hares eating their trifolium or 
+pea-pods or grass; graceful, gentle things they are, crowding 
+about Mr. Heaven, and standing prettily, not greedily, on their 
+hind legs, to reach for the clover, their delicate nostrils and 
+whiskers all a-quiver with excitement.</p>
+<p>As I look out of my window in the dusk I can see one of the 
+mothers galloping across the enclosure, the soft white lining of 
+her tail acting as a beacon-light to the eight infant hares 
+following her, a quaint procession of eight white spots in it 
+glancing line.&nbsp; In the darkest night those baby creatures 
+could follow their mother through grass or hedge or thicket, and 
+she would need no warning note to show them where to flee in case
+of danger.&nbsp; &ldquo;All you have to do is to follow the white
+night-light that I keep in the lining of my tail,&rdquo; she 
+says, when she is giving her first maternal lectures; and it 
+seems a beneficent provision of Nature.&nbsp; To be sure, Mr. 
+Heaven took his gun and went out to shoot wild rabbits to-day, 
+and I noted that he marked them by those same self-betraying 
+tails, as they scuttled toward their holes or leaped toward the 
+protecting cover of the hedge; so it does not appear whether 
+Nature is on the side of the farmer or the rabbit . . .</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p59b.jpg">
+<img alt="Mr. Heaven . . . went out to shoot wild rabbits" 
+src="images/p59s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>There is as much comedy and as much tragedy in poultry life as
+anywhere, and already I see rifts within lutes.&nbsp; We have in 
+a cage a French gentleman partridge married to a Hungarian lady 
+of defective sight.&nbsp; He paces back and forth in the pen 
+restlessly, anything but content with the domestic 
+fireside.&nbsp; One can see plainly that he is devoted to the 
+Boulevards, and that if left to his own inclinations he would 
+never have chosen any spouse but a thorough Parisienne.</p>
+<p>The Hungarian lady is blind of one eye, from some stray shot, 
+I suppose.&nbsp; She is melancholy at all times, and occasionally
+goes so far as to beat her head against the wire netting.&nbsp; 
+If liberated, Mr. Heaven says that her blindness would only 
+expose her to death at the hands of the first sportsman, and it 
+always seems to me as if she knows this, and is ever trying to 
+decide whether a loveless marriage is any better than the 
+tomb.</p>
+<p>Then, again, the great, grey gander is, for some mysterious 
+reason, out of favour with the entire family.&nbsp; He is a noble
+and amiable bird, by far the best all-round character in the 
+flock, for dignity of mien and large-minded common-sense.&nbsp; 
+What is the treatment vouchsafed to this blameless husband and 
+father?&nbsp; One that puts anybody out of sorts with virtue and 
+its scant rewards.&nbsp; To begin with, the others will not allow
+him to go into the pond.&nbsp; There is an organised cabal 
+against it, and he sits solitary on the bank, calm and resigned, 
+but, naturally, a trifle hurt.&nbsp; His favourite retreat is a 
+tiny sort of island on the edge of the pool under the alders, 
+where with his bent head, and red-rimmed philosophic eyes he 
+regards his own breast and dreams of happier days.&nbsp; When the
+others walk into the country twenty-three of them keep together, 
+and Burd Alane (as I have named him from the old ballad) walks by
+himself.&nbsp; The lack of harmony is so evident here, and the 
+slight so intentional and direct, that it almost moves me to 
+tears.&nbsp; The others walk soberly, always in couples, but even
+Burd Alane&rsquo;s rightful spouse is on the side of the 
+majority, and avoids her consort.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p61b.jpg">
+<img alt="Out of favour with the entire family" 
+src="images/p61s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>What is the nature of his offence?&nbsp; There can be no 
+connubial jealousies, I judge, as geese are strictly monogamous, 
+and having chosen a partner of their joys and sorrows they cleave
+to each other until death or some other inexorable circumstance 
+does them part.&nbsp; If they are ever mistaken in their choice, 
+and think they might have done better, the world is none the 
+wiser.&nbsp; Burd Alane looks in good condition, but Ph&oelig;be 
+thinks he is not quite himself, and that some day when he is in 
+greater strength he will turn on his foes and rend them, 
+regaining thus his lost prestige, for formerly he was king of the
+flock.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p>
+<p>Ph&oelig;be has not a vestige of sentiment.&nbsp; She just 
+asked me if I would have a duckling or a gosling for dinner; that
+there were two quite ready&mdash;the brown and yellow duckling, 
+that is the last to leave the water at night, and the white 
+gosling that never knows his own &rsquo;ouse.&nbsp; Which would I
+&rsquo;ave, and would I &rsquo;ave it with sage and onion?</p>
+<p>Now, had I found a duckling on the table at dinner I should 
+have eaten it without thinking at all, or with the thought that 
+it had come from Barbury Green.&nbsp; But eat a duckling that I 
+have stoned out of the pond, pursued up the bank, chased behind 
+the wire netting, caught, screaming, in a corner, and carried 
+struggling to his bed?&nbsp; Feed upon an idiot gosling that I 
+have found in nine different coops on nine successive 
+nights&mdash;in with the newly-hatched chicks, the half-grown 
+pullets, the setting hen, the &ldquo;invaleed goose,&rdquo; the 
+drake with the gapes, the old ducks in the pen?&mdash;Eat a 
+gosling that I have caught and put in with his brothers and 
+sisters (whom he never recognises) so frequently and regularly 
+that I am familiar with every joint in his body?</p>
+<p>In the first place, with my own small bump of locality and 
+lack of geography, I would never willingly consume a creature who
+might, by some strange process of assimilation, make me worse in 
+this respect; in the second place, I should have to be ravenous 
+indeed to sit down deliberately and make a meal of an intimate 
+friend, no matter if I had not a high opinion of his 
+intelligence.&nbsp; I should as soon think of eating the Square 
+Baby, stuffed with sage and onion and garnished with green 
+apple-sauce, as the yellow duckling or the idiot gosling.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Heaven has just called me into her sitting-room, 
+ostensibly to ask me to order breakfast, but really for the 
+pleasure of conversation.&nbsp; Why she should inquire whether I 
+would relish some gammon of bacon with eggs, when she knows that 
+there has not been, is not now, and never will be, anything but 
+gammon of bacon with eggs, is more than I can explain.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Would you like to see my flowers, miss?&rdquo; she 
+asks, folding her plump hands over her white apron.&nbsp; 
+&ldquo;They are looking beautiful this morning.&nbsp; I am so 
+fond of potted plants, of plants in pots.&nbsp; Look at these 
+geraniums!&nbsp; Now, I consider that pink one a perfect bloom; 
+yes, a perfect bloom.&nbsp; This is a fine red one, is it not, 
+miss?&nbsp; Especially fine, don&rsquo;t you think?&nbsp; The 
+trouble with the red variety is that they&rsquo;re apt to get 
+&ldquo;bobby&rdquo; and have to be washed regularly; quite bobby 
+they do get indeed, I assure you.&nbsp; That white one has just 
+gone out of blossom, and it was really wonderful.&nbsp; You could
+&rsquo;ardly have told it from a paper flower, miss, not from a 
+white paper flower.&nbsp; My plants are my children nowadays, 
+since Albert Edward is my only care.&nbsp; I have been the mother
+of eleven children, miss, all of them living, so far as I know; I
+know nothing to the contrary.&nbsp; I &rsquo;ope you are not 
+wearying of this solitary place, miss?&nbsp; It will grow upon 
+you, I am sure, as it did upon Mrs. Pollock, with all her 
+peculiar fancies, and as it &rsquo;as grown upon us.&mdash;We 
+formerly had a butcher&rsquo;s shop in Buffington, and it was 
+naturally a great responsibility.&nbsp; Mr. Heaven&rsquo;s nerves
+are not strong, and at last he wanted a life of more quietude, 
+more quietude was what he craved.&nbsp; The life of a retail 
+butcher is a most exciting and wearying one.&nbsp; Nobody 
+satisfied with their meat; as if it mattered in a world of 
+change!&nbsp; Everybody complaining of too much bone or too 
+little fat; nobody wishing tough chops or cutlets, but always 
+seeking after fine joints, when it&rsquo;s against reason and 
+nature that all joints should be juicy and all cutlets tender; 
+always complaining if livers are not sent with every fowl, always
+asking you to remember the trimmin&rsquo;s, always wanting their 
+beef well &rsquo;ung, and then if you &rsquo;ang it a minute too 
+long, it&rsquo;s left on your &rsquo;ands!&nbsp; I often used to 
+say to Mr. Heaven, yes many&rsquo;s the time I&rsquo;ve said it, 
+that if people would think more of the great &rsquo;ereafter and 
+less about their own little stomachs, it would be a deal better 
+for them, yes, a deal better, and make it much more comfortable 
+for the butchers!&rdquo;</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p65b.jpg">
+<img alt="The life . . . is a most exciting and wearying one" 
+src="images/p65s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p>
+<p>Burd Alane has had a good quarter of an hour to-day.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p66.jpg">
+<img alt="His spouse took a brief promenade with him" 
+src="images/p66.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>His spouse took a brief promenade with him.&nbsp; To be sure, 
+it was during an absence of the flock on the other side of the 
+hedge so that the moral effect of her spasm of wifely loyalty was
+quite lost upon them.&nbsp; I strongly suspect that she would not
+have granted anything but a secret interview.&nbsp; What a petty,
+weak, ignoble character!&nbsp; I really don&rsquo;t like to think
+so badly of any fellow-creature as I am forced to think of that 
+politic, time-serving, pusillanimous goose.&nbsp; I believe she 
+laid the egg that produced the idiot gosling!</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+<p>Here follows the true story of Sir Muscovy Drake, the Lady 
+Blanche, and Miss Malardina Crippletoes.</p>
+<p>Ph&oelig;be&rsquo;s flock consisted at first mostly of Brown 
+Mallards, but a friend gave her a sitting of eggs warranted to 
+produce a most beautiful variety of white ducks.&nbsp; They were 
+hatched in due time, but proved hard to raise, till at length 
+there was only one survivor, of such uncommon grace and beauty 
+that we called her the Lady Blanche.&nbsp; Presently a neighbour 
+sold Ph&oelig;be his favourite Muscovy drake, and these two 
+splendid creatures by &ldquo;natural selection&rdquo; disdained 
+to notice the rest of the flock, but forming a close friendship, 
+wandered in the pleasant paths of duckdom together, swimming and 
+eating quite apart from the others.</p>
+<p>In the brown flock there was one unfortunate, misshapen from 
+the egg, quite lame, and with no smoothness of plumage; but on 
+that very account, apparently, or because she was too weak to 
+resist them, the others treated her cruelly, biting her and 
+pushing her away from the food.</p>
+<p>One day it happened that the two ducks&mdash;Sir Muscovy and 
+Lady Blanche&mdash;had come up from the water before the others, 
+and having taken their repast were sitting together under the 
+shade of a flowering currant-bush, when they chanced to see poor 
+Miss Crippletoes very badly used and crowded away from the 
+dish.&nbsp; Sir Muscovy rose to his feet; a few rapid words 
+seemed to pass between him and his mate, and then he fell upon 
+the other drake and the heartless minions who had persecuted the 
+helpless one, drove them far away out of sight, and, returning, 
+went to the corner where the victim was cowering, her face to the
+wall.&nbsp; He seemed to whisper to her, or in some way to convey
+to her a sense of protection; for after a few moments she 
+tremblingly went with him to the dish, and hurriedly ate her 
+dinner while he stood by, repulsing the advances of the few brown
+ducks who remained near and seemed inclined to attack her.</p>
+<p>When she had eaten enough Lady Blanche joined them, and they 
+went down the hill together to their favourite 
+swimming-place.&nbsp; After that Miss Crippletoes always followed
+a little behind her protectors, and thus shielded and fed she 
+grew stronger and well-feathered, though she was always smaller 
+than she should have been and had a lowly manner, keeping a few 
+steps in the rear of her superiors and sitting at some distance 
+from their noon resting-place.</p>
+<p>Ph&oelig;be noticed after a while that Lady Blanche was seldom
+to be seen, and Sir Muscovy and Miss Crippletoes often came to 
+their meals without her.&nbsp; The would-be mother refused to 
+inhabit the house Ph&oelig;be had given her, and for a long time 
+the place she had chosen for her sitting could not be 
+found.&nbsp; At length the Square Baby discovered her in a most 
+ideal spot.&nbsp; A large boulder had dropped years ago into the 
+brook that fills our duck-pond; dropped and split in halves with 
+the two smooth walls leaning away from each other.&nbsp; A grassy
+bank towered behind, and on either side of the opening, tall 
+bushes made a miniature forest where the romantic mother could 
+brood her treasures while her two guardians enjoyed the water 
+close by her retreat.</p>
+<p>All this happened before my coming to Thornycroft Farm, but it
+was I who named the hero and heroines of the romance when 
+Ph&oelig;be had told me all the particulars.&nbsp; Yesterday 
+morning I was sitting by my open window.&nbsp; It was warm, 
+sunny, and still, but in the country sounds travel far, and I 
+could hear fowl conversation in various parts of the poultry-yard
+as well as in all the outlying bits of territory occupied by our 
+feathered friends.&nbsp; Hens have only three words and a scream 
+in their language, but ducks, having more thoughts to express, 
+converse quite fluently, so fluently, in fact, that it reminds me
+of dinner at the Hydropathic Hotel.&nbsp; I fancy I have learned 
+to distinguish seven separate sounds, each varied by degrees of 
+intensity, and with upward or downward inflections like the 
+Chinese tongue.</p>
+<p>In the distance, then, I heard the faint voice of a duck 
+calling as if breathless and excited.&nbsp; While I wondered what
+was happening, I saw Miss Crippletoes struggling up the steep 
+bank above the duck-pond.&nbsp; It was the quickest way from the 
+water to the house, but difficult for the little lame webbed 
+feet.&nbsp; When she reached the level grass sward she sank down 
+a moment, exhausted; but when she could speak again she cried 
+out, a sharp staccato call, and ran forward.</p>
+<p>Instantly she was answered from a distant knoll, where for 
+some reason Sir Muscovy loved to retire for meditation.&nbsp; The
+cries grew lower and softer as the birds approached each other, 
+and they met at the corner just under my window.&nbsp; Instantly 
+they put their two bills together and the loud cries changed to 
+confiding murmurs.&nbsp; Evidently some hurried questions and 
+answers passed between them, and then Sir Muscovy waddled rapidly
+by the quickest path, Miss Crippletoes following him at a slower 
+pace, and both passed out of sight, using their wings to help 
+their feet down the steep declivity.&nbsp; The next morning, when
+I wakened early, my first thought was to look out, and there on 
+the sunny greensward where they were accustomed to be fed, Sir 
+Muscovy, Lady Blanche, and their humble maid, Malardina 
+Crippletoes, were scattering their own breakfast before the bills
+of twelve beautiful golden balls of ducklings.&nbsp; The little 
+creatures could never have climbed the bank, but must have 
+started from their nest at dawn, coming round by the brook to the
+level at the foot of the garden, and so by slow degrees up to the
+house.</p>
+<p>Judging from what I heard and knew of their habits, I am sure 
+the excitement of the previous morning was occasioned by the 
+hatching of the eggs, and that Lady Blanche had hastily sent her 
+friend to call Sir Muscovy, the family remaining together until 
+they could bring the babies with them and display their beauty to
+Ph&oelig;be and me.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER X</h2>
+<p style="text-align: right">July 14th.</p>
+<p>We are not wholly without the pleasures of the town in Barbury
+Green.&nbsp; Once or twice in a summer, late on a Saturday 
+afternoon, a procession of red and yellow vans drives into a 
+field near the centre of the village.&nbsp; By the time the vans 
+are unpacked all the children in the community are surrounding 
+the gate of entrance.&nbsp; There is rifle-shooting, there is 
+fortune-telling, there are games of pitch and toss, and swings, 
+and French bagatelle; and, to crown all, a wonderful orchestrion 
+that goes by steam.&nbsp; The water is boiled for the 
+public&rsquo;s tea, and at the same time thrilling strains of 
+melody are flung into the air.&nbsp; There is at present only one
+tune in the orchestrion&rsquo;s repertory, but it is a very good 
+tune; though after hearing it three hundred and seven times in a 
+single afternoon, it pursues one, sleeping and waking, for the 
+next week.&nbsp; Ph&oelig;be and I took the Square Baby and went 
+in to this diversified entertainment.&nbsp; There was a small 
+crowd of children at the entrance, but as none of them seemed to 
+be provided with pennies, and I felt in a fairy godmother mood, I
+offered them the freedom of the place at my expense.</p>
+<p>I never purchased more radiant good-will for less money, but 
+the combined effect of the well-boiled tea and the boiling 
+orchestrion produced many village nightmares, so the mothers told
+me at chapel next morning.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p>
+<p>I have many friends in Barbury Green, and often have a 
+pleasant chat with the draper, and the watchmaker, and the 
+chemist.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p74b.jpg">
+<img alt="The freedom of the place at my expense" 
+src="images/p74s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>The last house on the principal street is rather an ugly one, 
+with especially nice window curtains.&nbsp; As I was taking my 
+daily walk to the post-office (an entirely unfruitful expedition 
+thus far, as nobody has taken the pains to write to me) I saw a 
+nursemaid coming out of the gate, wheeling a baby in a 
+perambulator.&nbsp; She was going placidly away from the Green 
+when, far in the distance, she espied a man walking rapidly 
+toward us, a heavy Gladstone bag in one hand.&nbsp; She gazed 
+fixedly for a moment, her eyes brightening and her cheeks 
+flushing with pleasure,&mdash;whoever it was, it was an 
+unexpected arrival;&mdash;then she retraced her steps and, 
+running up the garden-path, opened the front door and held an 
+excited colloquy with somebody; a slender somebody in a nice 
+print gown and neatly-dressed hair, who came to the gate and 
+peeped beyond the hedge several times, drawing back between peeps
+with smiles and heightened colour.&nbsp; She did not run down the
+road, even when she had satisfied herself of the identity of the 
+traveller; perhaps that would not have been good form in an 
+English village, for there were houses on the opposite side of 
+the way.&nbsp; She waited until he opened the gate, the nursemaid
+took the bag and looked discreetly into the hedge, then the 
+mistress slipped her hand through the traveller&rsquo;s arm and 
+walked up the path as if she had nothing else in the world to 
+wish for.&nbsp; The nurse had a part in the joy, for she lifted 
+the baby out of the perambulator and showed proudly how much he 
+had grown.</p>
+<p>It was a dear little scene, and I, a passer-by, had shared in 
+it and felt better for it.&nbsp; I think their content was no 
+less because part of it had enriched my life, for happiness, like
+mercy, is twice blessed; it blesses those who are most intimately
+associated in it, and it blesses all those who see it, hear it, 
+feel it, touch it, or breathe the same atmosphere.&nbsp; A 
+laughing, crowing baby in a house, one cheerful woman singing 
+about her work, a boy whistling at the plough, a romance just 
+suspected, with its miracle of two hearts melting into 
+one&mdash;the wind&rsquo;s always in the west when you have any 
+of these wonder-workers in your neighbourhood.</p>
+<p>I have talks too, sometimes, with the old parson, who lives in
+a quaint house with &ldquo;<i>Parva Domus Magna Quies</i>&rdquo; 
+cut into the stone over the doorway.&nbsp; He is not a preaching 
+parson, but a retired one, almost the nicest kind, I often 
+think.</p>
+<p>He has been married thirty years, he tells me; thirty years, 
+spent in the one little house with the bricks painted red and 
+grey alternately, and the scarlet holly-hocks growing under the 
+windows.&nbsp; I am sure they have been sweet, true, kind years, 
+and that his heart must be a quiet, peaceful place just like his 
+house and garden.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I was only eleven years old when I fell in love with my
+wife,&rdquo; he told me as we sat on the seat under the 
+lime-tree; he puffing cosily at his pipe, I plaiting grasses for 
+a hatband.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p77b.jpg">
+<img alt="Puffing cosily at his pipe" src="images/p77s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>&ldquo;It was just before Sunday-school.&nbsp; Her mother had 
+dressed her all in white muslin like a fairy, but she had stepped
+on the edge of a puddle, and some of the muddy water had 
+bespattered her frock.&nbsp; A circle of children had surrounded 
+her, and some of the motherly little girls were on their knees 
+rubbing at the spots anxiously, while one of them wiped away the 
+tears that were running down her pretty cheeks.&nbsp; I 
+looked!&nbsp; It was fatal!&nbsp; I did not look again, but I was
+smitten to the very heart!&nbsp; I did not speak to her for six 
+years, but when I did, it was all right with both of us, thank 
+God! and I&rsquo;ve been in love with her ever since, when she 
+behaves herself!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>That is the way they speak of love in Barbury Green, and oh! 
+how much sweeter and more wholesome it is than the language of 
+the town!&nbsp; Who would not be a Goose Girl, &ldquo;to win the 
+secret of the weed&rsquo;s plain heart&rdquo;?&nbsp; It seems to 
+me that in society we are always gazing at magic-lantern shows, 
+but here we rest our tired eyes with looking at the stars.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p79b.jpg">
+<img alt="A Hen Conference" src="images/p79s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p style="text-align: right">July 16th.</p>
+<p>Ph&oelig;be and I have been to a Hen Conference at 
+Buffington.&nbsp; It was for the purpose of raising the standard 
+of the British Hen, and our local Countess, who is much 
+interested in poultry, was in the chair.</p>
+<p>It was a very learned body, but Ph&oelig;be had coached me so 
+well that at the noon recess I could talk confidently with the 
+members, discussing the various advantages of True and Crossed 
+Minorcas, Feverels, Andalusians, Cochin Chinas, Shanghais, and 
+the White Leghorn.&nbsp; (Ph&oelig;be, when she pronounces this 
+word, leaves out the &ldquo;h&rdquo; and bears down heavily on 
+the last syllable, so that it rhymes with begone!)</p>
+<p>As I was sitting under the trees waiting for Ph&oelig;be to 
+finish some shopping in the village, a travelling poultry-dealer 
+came along and offered to sell me a silver Wyandotte pullet and 
+cockerel.&nbsp; This was a new breed to me and I asked the price,
+which proved to be more than I should pay for a hat in Bond 
+Street.&nbsp; I hesitated, thinking meantime what a delightful 
+parting gift they would be for Ph&oelig;be; I mean if we ever 
+should part, which seems more and more unlikely, as I shall never
+leave Thornycroft until somebody comes properly to fetch me; 
+indeed, unless the &ldquo;fetching&rdquo; is done somewhat 
+speedily I may decline to go under any circumstances.&nbsp; My 
+indecision as to the purchase was finally banished when the 
+poultryman asserted that the fowls had clear open centres all 
+over, black lacing entirely round the white centres, were free 
+from white edging, and each had a cherry-red eye.&nbsp; This 
+catalogue of charms inflamed my imagination, though it gave me no
+mental picture of a silver Wyandotte fowl, and I paid the money 
+while the dealer crammed the chicks, squawking into my 
+five-o&rsquo;clock tea-basket.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p81b.jpg">
+<img alt="Arguing questions of diet" src="images/p81s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>The afternoon session of the conference was most exciting, for
+we reached the subject of imported eggs, an industry that is 
+assuming terrifying proportions.&nbsp; The London hotel egg comes
+from Denmark, it seems,&mdash;I should think by sailing vessel, 
+not steamer, but I may be wrong.&nbsp; After we had settled that 
+the British Hen should be protected and encouraged, and agreed 
+solemnly to abstain from Danish eggs in any form, and made a 
+resolution stating that our loyalty to Queen Alexandra would 
+remain undiminished, we argued the subject of hen diet.&nbsp; 
+There was a great difference of opinion here and the discussion 
+was heated; the honorary treasurer standing for pulped mangold 
+and flint grit, the chair insisting on barley meal and randans, 
+while one eloquent young woman declared, to loud cries of 
+&ldquo;&rsquo;Ear, &rsquo;ear!&rdquo; that rice pudding and bone 
+chips produce more eggs to the square hen than any other sort of 
+food.&nbsp; Impassioned orators arose here and there in the 
+audience demanding recognition for beef scraps, charcoal, round 
+corn or buckwheat.&nbsp; Foods were regarded from various 
+standpoints: as general invigorators, growth assisters, and egg 
+producers.&nbsp; A very handsome young farmer carried off final 
+honours, and proved to the satisfaction of all the feminine 
+poultry-raisers that green young hog bones fresh cut in the 
+Banner Bone Breaker (of which he was the agent) possessed a 
+nutritive value not to be expressed in human language.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p82b.jpg">
+<img alt="The afternoon session was most exciting" 
+src="images/p82s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>Ph&oelig;be was distinctly nervous when I rose to say a few 
+words on poultry breeding, announcing as my topic &ldquo;Mothers,
+Stepmothers, Foster-Mothers, and Incubators.&rdquo;&nbsp; 
+Protected by the consciousness that no one in the assemblage 
+could possibly know me, I made a distinct success in my maiden 
+speech; indeed, I somewhat overshot the mark, for the Countess in
+the chair sent me a note asking me to dine with her that 
+evening.&nbsp; I suppressed the note and took Ph&oelig;be away 
+before the proceedings were finished, vanishing from the scene of
+my triumphs like a veiled prophet.</p>
+<p>Just as we were passing out the door we paused to hear the 
+report of a special committee whose chairman read the following 
+resolutions:&mdash;</p>
+<p><i>Whereas</i>,&mdash;It has pleased the Almighty to remove 
+from our midst our greatest Rose Comb Buff Orpington fancier and 
+esteemed friend, Albert Edward Sheridain; therefore be it</p>
+<p><i>Resolved</i>,&mdash;That the next edition of our catalogue 
+contain an illustrated memorial page in his honour and</p>
+<p><i>Resolved</i>,&mdash;That the Rose Comb Buff Orpington Club 
+extend to the bereaved family their heartfelt sympathy.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p84b.jpg">
+<img alt="Not asked to the Conference" src="images/p84s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>The handsome young farmer followed us out to our trap, invited
+us to attend the next meeting of the R. C. B. O. Club, of which 
+he was the secretary, and asked if I were intending to 
+&ldquo;show.&rdquo;&nbsp; I introduced Ph&oelig;be as the senior 
+partner, and she concealed the fact that we possessed but one 
+Buff Orpington, and he was a sad &ldquo;invaleed&rdquo; not 
+suitable for exhibition.&nbsp; The farmer&rsquo;s expression as 
+he looked at me was almost lover-like, and when he pressed a bit 
+of paper into my hand I was sure it must be an offer of 
+marriage.&nbsp; It was in fact only a circular describing the 
+Banner Bone Breaker.&nbsp; It closed with an appeal to Buff 
+Orpington breeders to raise and ever raise the standard, bidding 
+them remember, in the midst of a low-minded and sordid 
+civilisation, that the rose comb should be small and neat, firmly
+set on, with good working, a nice spike at the back lying well 
+down to head, and never, under any circumstances, never sticking 
+up.&nbsp; This adjuration somewhat alarmed us as Ph&oelig;be and 
+I had been giving our Buff Orpington cockerel the most drastic 
+remedies for his languid and prostrate comb.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p85b.jpg">
+<img alt="Coming home" src="images/p85s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>Coming home we alighted from the trap to gather hogweed for 
+the rabbits.&nbsp; I sat by the wayside lazily and let 
+Ph&oelig;be gather the appetising weed, which grows along the 
+thorniest hedges in close proximity to nettles and thistles.</p>
+<p>Workmen were trudging along with their luncheon-baskets of 
+woven bulrushes slung over their shoulders.&nbsp; Fields of 
+ripening grain lay on either hand, the sun shining on their every
+shade of green and yellow, bronze and orange, while the breeze 
+stirred the bearded barley into a rippling golden sea.</p>
+<p>Ph&oelig;be asked me if the people I had left behind at the 
+Hydropathic were my relatives.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Some of them are of remote consanguinity,&rdquo; I 
+responded evasively, and the next question was hushed upon her 
+awe-stricken tongue, as I intended.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They are obeying my wish to be let alone, there&rsquo;s
+no doubt of that,&rdquo; I was thinking.&nbsp; &ldquo;For my 
+part, I like a little more spirit, and a little less 
+&lsquo;letter&rsquo;!&rdquo;</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p87b.jpg">
+<img alt="Workmen were trudging home" src="images/p87s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>As the word &ldquo;letter&rdquo; flitted through my thoughts, 
+I pulled one from my pocket and glanced through it 
+carelessly.&nbsp; It arrived, somewhat tardily, only last night, 
+or I should not have had it with me.&nbsp; I wore the same dress 
+to the post-office yesterday that I wore to the Hen Conference 
+to-day, and so it chanced to be still in the pocket.&nbsp; If it 
+had been anything I valued, of course I should have lost or 
+destroyed it by mistake; it is only silly, worthless little 
+things like this that keep turning up and turning up after one 
+has forgotten their existence.</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;You are a mystery!&rdquo; [it ran.]&nbsp; 
+&ldquo;I can apprehend, but not comprehend you.&nbsp; I know you 
+in part.&nbsp; I understand various bits of your nature; but my 
+knowledge is always fragmentary and disconnected, and when I 
+attempt to make a whole of the mosaics I merely get a 
+kaleidoscopic effect.&nbsp; Do you know those geographical 
+dissected puzzles that they give to children?&nbsp; You remind me
+of one of them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have spent many charming (and dangerous) hours trying
+to &lsquo;put you together&rsquo;; but I find, when I examine my 
+picture closely, that after all I&rsquo;ve made a purple mountain
+grow out of a green tree; that my river is running up a steep 
+hillside; and that the pretty milkmaid, who should be wandering 
+in the forest, is standing on her head with her pail in the 
+air</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you understand yourself clearly?&nbsp; Or is it just
+possible that when you dive to the depths of your own 
+consciousness, you sometimes find the pretty milkmaid standing on
+her head?&nbsp; I wonder!&rdquo; . . .</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>Ah, well, it is no wonder that he wonders!&nbsp;&nbsp; So do 
+I, for that matter!</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p89b.jpg">
+<img alt="Along the highway" src="images/p89s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p style="text-align: right">July 17th.</p>
+<p>Thornycroft Farm seems to be the musical centre of the 
+universe.</p>
+<p>When I wake very early in the morning I lie in a drowsy sort 
+of dream, trying to disentangle, one from the other, the various 
+bird notes, trills, coos, croons, chirps, chirrups, and 
+warbles.&nbsp; Suddenly there falls on the air a delicious, 
+liquid, finished song; so pure, so mellow, so joyous, that I go 
+to the window and look out at the morning world, half awakened, 
+like myself.</p>
+<p>There is I know not what charm in a window that does not push 
+up, but opens its lattices out into the greenness.&nbsp; And mine
+is like a little jewelled door, for the sun is shining from 
+behind the chimneys and lighting the tiny diamond panes with 
+amber flashes.</p>
+<p>A faint delicate haze lies over the meadow, and rising out of 
+it, and soaring toward the blue is the lark, flinging out that 
+matchless matin song, so rich, so thrilling, so lavish!&nbsp; As 
+the blithe melody fades away, I hear the plaintive 
+ballad-fragments of the robin on a curtsying branch near my 
+window; and there is always the liquid pipe of the thrush, who 
+must quaff a fairy goblet of dew between his songs, I should 
+think, so fresh and eternally young is his note.</p>
+<p>There is another beautiful song that I follow whenever I hear 
+it, straining my eyes to the treetops, yet never finding a bird 
+that I can identify as the singer.&nbsp; Can it be the&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;Ousel-cock so black of hue,<br />
+With orange-tawny bill&rdquo;?</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>He is called the poet-laureate of the primrose time, but I 
+don&rsquo;t know whether he sings in midsummer, and I have not 
+seen him hereabouts.&nbsp; I must write and ask my dear Man of 
+the North.&nbsp; The Man of the North, I sometimes think, had a 
+Fairy Grandmother who was a robin; and perhaps she made a nest of
+fresh moss and put him in the green wood when he was a wee 
+bairnie, so that he waxed wise in bird-lore without knowing 
+it.&nbsp; At all events, describe to him the cock of a head, the 
+glance of an eye, the tip-up of a tail, or the sheen of a 
+feather, and he will name you the bird.&nbsp; Near-sighted he is,
+too, the Man of the North, but that is only for people.</p>
+<p>The Square Baby and I have a new game.</p>
+<p>I bought a doll&rsquo;s table and china tea-set in 
+Buffington.&nbsp; We put it under an apple-tree in the side 
+garden, where the scarlet lightning grows so tall and the Madonna
+lilies stand so white against the flaming background.&nbsp; We 
+built a little fence around it, and every afternoon at tea-time 
+we sprinkle seeds and crumbs in the dishes, water in the tiny 
+cups, drop a cherry in each of the fruit-plates, and have a 
+<i>th&eacute; chantant</i> for the birdies.&nbsp; We sometimes 
+invite an &ldquo;invaleed&rdquo; duckling, or one of the baby 
+rabbits, or the peacock, in which case the cards read:&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p style="text-align: center"><i>Thornycroft 
+Farm</i>.<br />
+The pleasure of your company is requested<br />
+at a<br />
+<i>Th&eacute; Chantant</i><br />
+Under the Apple Tree.<br />
+Music at five.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>It is a charming game, as I say, but I&rsquo;d far rather play
+it with the Man of the North; he is so much younger than the 
+Square Baby, and so much more responsive, too.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p92b.jpg">
+<img alt="The scent of the hay" src="images/p92s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>Thornycroft Farm is a sweet place, too, of odours as well as 
+sounds.&nbsp; The scent of the hay is for ever in the nostrils, 
+the hedges are thick with wild honeysuckle, so deliciously 
+fragrant, the last of the June roses are lingering to do their 
+share, and blackberry blossoms and ripening fruit as well.</p>
+<p>I have never known a place in which it is so easy to be 
+good.&nbsp; I have not said a word, nor scarcely harboured a 
+thought, that was not lovely and virtuous since I entered these 
+gates, and yet there are those who think me fantastic, difficult,
+hard to please, unreasonable!</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p93b.jpg">
+<img alt="The last of June" src="images/p93s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>I believe the saints must have lived in the country mostly (I 
+am certain they never tried Hydropathic hotels), and why anybody 
+with a black heart and natural love of wickedness should not 
+simply buy a poultry farm and become an angel, I cannot 
+understand.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p94b.jpg">
+<img alt="A place in which it is so easy to be good" 
+src="images/p94s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>Living with animals is really a very improving and wholesome 
+kind of life, to the person who will allow himself to be 
+influenced by their sensible and high-minded ideals.&nbsp; When 
+you come to think about it, man is really the only animal that 
+ever makes a fool of himself; the others are highly civilised, 
+and never make mistakes.&nbsp; I am going to mention this when I 
+write to somebody, sometime; I mean if I ever do.&nbsp; To be 
+sure, our human life is much more complicated than theirs, and I 
+believe when the other animals notice our errors of judgment they
+make allowances.&nbsp; The bee is as busy as a bee, and the 
+beaver works like a beaver, but there their responsibility 
+ends.&nbsp; The bee doesn&rsquo;t have to go about seeing that 
+other bees are not crowded into unsanitary tenements or 
+victimised by the sweating system.&nbsp; When the beaver&rsquo;s 
+day of toil is over he doesn&rsquo;t have to discuss the sphere, 
+the rights, or the voting privileges of beaveresses; all he has 
+to do is to work like a beaver, and that is comparatively 
+simple.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p96b.jpg">
+<img alt="Not particularly attracted by the poultry" 
+src="images/p96s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>I have been studying <i>The Young Poultry Keeper&rsquo;s 
+Friend</i> of late.&nbsp; If there is anything I dislike and 
+deplore, it is the possession of knowledge which I cannot put to 
+practical use.&nbsp; Having discovered an interesting disease 
+called Scaly Leg in the July number, I took the magazine out into
+the poultry-yard and identified the malady on three hens and a 
+cock.&nbsp; Ph&oelig;be joined me in the diagnosis and we treated
+the victims with a carbolic lotion and scrubbed them with 
+vaseline.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p97b.jpg">
+<img alt="Leaned languidly against the netting" 
+src="images/p97s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>As Ph&oelig;be and I grow wise in medical lore the case of 
+Cannibal Ann assumes a different aspect.&nbsp; As the bibulous 
+man quaffs more and more flagons of beer and wine when his daily 
+food is ham, salt fish, and cabbage, so does the hen avenge her 
+wrongs of diet and woes of environment.&nbsp; Cannibal Ann, 
+herself, has, so far as we know, been raised in a Christian 
+manner and enjoyed all the advantages of modern methods; but her 
+maternal parent may have lived in some heathen poultry-yard which
+was asphalted or bricked or flagged, so that she was debarred 
+from scratching in Mother Earth and was forced to eat her own 
+shells in self-defence.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">* * * * *</p>
+<p>The Square Baby is not particularly attracted by the poultry 
+as a whole, save when it is boiled with bacon or roasted with 
+bread-sauce; but he is much interested in the 
+&ldquo;invaleeds.&rdquo;&nbsp; Whenever Ph&oelig;be and I start 
+for the hospital with the tobacco-pills, the tin of paraffin, and
+the bottle of oil, he is very much in evidence.&nbsp; Perhaps he 
+has a natural leaning toward the medical profession; at any rate,
+when pain and anguish wring the brow, he is in close attendance 
+upon the ministering angels.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p98.jpg">
+<img alt="Staggered and reeled" src="images/p98.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>Now it is necessary for the physician to have practice as well
+as theory, so the Square Baby, being left to himself this 
+afternoon, proceeded to perfect himself in some of the healing 
+arts used by country practitioners.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p99b.jpg">
+<img alt="Caught her son red-handed" src="images/p99s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>When discovered, he was seated in front of the wire-covered 
+&ldquo;run&rdquo; attached to a coop occupied by the youngest 
+goslings.&nbsp; A couple of bottles and a box stood by his side, 
+and I should think he had administered a cup of sweet oil, a pint
+of paraffin, and a quarter of a pound of tobacco during his 
+clinic.&nbsp; He had used the remedies impartially, sometimes 
+giving the paraffin internally and rubbing the patient&rsquo;s 
+head with tobacco or oil, sometimes the reverse.</p>
+<p>Several goslings leaned languidly against the netting, or 
+supported themselves by the edge of the water-dish, while others 
+staggered and reeled about with eyes half closed.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p100b.jpg">
+<img alt="He was treated summarily and smartly" 
+src="images/p100s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>It was Mrs. Heaven who caught her son red-handed, so to 
+speak.&nbsp; She was dressed in her best, and just driving off to
+Woodmucket to spend a day or two with her married daughter, and 
+soothe her nerves with the uproar incident to a town of six 
+hundred inhabitants.&nbsp; She delayed her journey a 
+half-hour&mdash;long enough, in fact, to change her black silk 
+waist for a loose sacque which would give her arms full and 
+comfortable play.&nbsp; The joy and astonishment that greeted the
+Square Baby on his advent, five years ago, was forgotten for the 
+first time in his brief life, and he was treated precisely as any
+ordinary wrongdoer would have been treated under the same 
+circumstances, summarily and smartly; the &ldquo;wepping,&rdquo; 
+as Ph&oelig;be would say, being Mrs. Heaven&rsquo;s hand.</p>
+<p>All but one of the goslings lived, like thousands of others 
+who recover in spite of the doctors, but the Square Baby&rsquo;s 
+interest in the healing art is now perceptibly lessened.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
+<p style="text-align: right">July 18th.</p>
+<p>The day was Friday; Ph&oelig;be&rsquo;s day to go to 
+Buffington with eggs and chickens and rabbits; her day to solicit
+orders for ducklings and goslings.&nbsp; The village cart was 
+ready in the stable; Mr. and Mrs. Heaven were in Woodmucket; I 
+was eating my breakfast (which I remember was an egg and a 
+rasher) when Ph&oelig;be came in, a figure of woe.</p>
+<p>The Square Baby was ill, very ill, and would not permit her to
+leave him and go to market.&nbsp; Would I look at him?&nbsp; For 
+he must have dowsed &rsquo;imself as well as the goslings 
+yesterday; anyways he was strong of paraffin and tobacco, though 
+he &rsquo;ad &rsquo;ad a good barth.</p>
+<p>I prescribed for Albert Edward, who was as uncomfortable and 
+feverish as any little sinner in the county of Sussex, and I then
+promptly proposed going to Buffington in Ph&oelig;be&rsquo;s 
+place.</p>
+<p>She did not think it at all proper, and said that, 
+notwithstanding my cotton gown and sailor hat, I looked quite, 
+quite the lydy, and it would never do.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot get any new orders,&rdquo; said I, &ldquo;but 
+I can certainly leave the rabbits and eggs at the customary 
+places.&nbsp; I know Argent&rsquo;s Dining Parlours, and 
+Songhurst&rsquo;s Tea Rooms, and the Six Bells Inn, as well as 
+you do.&rdquo;</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p103b.jpg">
+<img alt="The Six Bells found the last poultry somewhat tough" 
+src="images/p103s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>So, donning a pair of Ph&oelig;be&rsquo;s large white cotton 
+gloves with open-work wrists (than which I always fancy there is 
+no one article that so disguises the perfect lydy), I set out 
+upon my travels, upborne by a lively sense of amusement that was 
+at least equal to my feeling that I was doing Ph&oelig;be Heaven 
+a good turn.</p>
+<p>Prices in dressed poultry were fluctuating, but I had a copy 
+of <i>The Trade Review</i>, issued that very day, and was able to
+get some idea of values and the state of the market as I jogged 
+along.&nbsp; The general movement, I learned, was moderate and of
+a &ldquo;selective&rdquo; character.&nbsp; Choice large capons 
+and ducks were in steady demand, but I blushed for my profession 
+when I read that roasting chickens were running coarse, staggy, 
+and of irregular value.&nbsp; Old hens were held firmly at 
+sixpence, and it is my experience that they always have to be, at
+whatever price.&nbsp; Geese were plenty, dull, and weak.&nbsp; 
+Old cocks,&mdash;why don&rsquo;t they say 
+roosters?&mdash;declined to threepence ha&rsquo;penny on Thursday
+in sympathy with fowls,&mdash;and who shall say that chivalry is 
+dead?&nbsp; Turkeys were a trifle steadier, and there was a 
+speculative movement in limed eggs.&nbsp; All this was 
+illuminating, and I only wished I were quite certain whether the 
+sympathetic old roosters were threepence ha&rsquo;penny apiece, 
+or a pound.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p105.jpg">
+<img alt="The gadabout hen" src="images/p105.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>Everything happened as it should, on this first business 
+journey of my life, which is equivalent to saying that nothing 
+happened at all.&nbsp; Songhurst&rsquo;s Tea Rooms took five 
+dozen eggs and told me to bring six dozen the next week.&nbsp; 
+Argent&rsquo;s Dining Parlours purchased three pairs of chickens 
+and four rabbits.&nbsp; The Six Bells found the last poultry 
+somewhat tough and tasteless; whereupon I said that our orders 
+were more than we could possibly fill, still I hoped we could go 
+on &ldquo;selling them,&rdquo; as we never liked to part with old
+customers, no matter how many new ones there were.&nbsp; 
+Privately, I understood the complaint only too well, for I knew 
+the fowls in question very intimately.&nbsp; Two of them were the
+runaway rooster and the gadabout hen that never wanted to go to 
+bed with the others.&nbsp; The third was Cannibal Ann.&nbsp; I 
+should have expected them to be tough, but I cannot believe they 
+were lacking in flavour.</p>
+<p>The only troublesome feature of the trip was that Mrs. 
+Sowerbutt&rsquo;s lodgers had suddenly left for London and she 
+was unable to take the four rabbits as she had hoped; but as an 
+offset to that piece of ill-fortune the Coke and Coal Yard and 
+the Bicycle Repairing Rooms came out into the street, and, 
+stepping up to the trap, requested regular weekly deliveries of 
+eggs and chickens, and hoped that I would be able to bring them 
+myself.&nbsp; And so, in a happy frame of mind, I turned out of 
+the Buffington main street, and was jogging along homeward, when 
+a very startling thing happened; namely, a whole verse of the 
+Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter of Islington:&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;And as she went along the high road,<br />
+The weather being hot and dry,<br />
+She sat her down upon a green bank,<br />
+And her true love came riding by.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>That true lovers are given to riding by, in ballads, I know 
+very well, but I hardly supposed they did so in real life, 
+especially when every precaution had been taken to avert such a 
+catastrophe.&nbsp; I had told the Barbury Green postmistress, on 
+the morning of my arrival, not to give the Thornycroft address to
+anybody whatsoever, but finding, as the days passed, that no one 
+was bold enough or sensible enough to ask for it, I haughtily 
+withdrew my prohibition.&nbsp; About this time I began sending 
+envelopes, carefully addressed in a feigned hand, to a certain 
+person at the Oxenbridge Hydro.&nbsp; These envelopes contained 
+no word of writing, but held, on one day, only a bit of down from
+a hen&rsquo;s breast, on another, a goose-quill, on another, a 
+glossy tail-feather, on another, a grain of corn, and so 
+on.&nbsp; These trifles were regarded by me not as degrading or 
+unmaidenly hints and suggestions, but simply as tests of 
+intelligence.&nbsp; Could a man receive tokens of this sort and 
+fail to put two and two together?&nbsp; I feel that I might 
+possibly support life with a domineering and autocratic 
+husband,&mdash;and there is every prospect that I shall be called
+upon to do so,&mdash;but not with a stupid one.&nbsp; Suppose one
+were linked for ever to a man capable of asking,&mdash;&ldquo;Did
+<i>you</i> send those feathers? . . . How was I to guess? . . . 
+How was a fellow to know they came from you? . . . What on earth 
+could I suppose they meant? . . . What clue did they offer me as 
+to your whereabouts? . . . Am I a Sherlock 
+Holmes?&rdquo;&mdash;No, better eternal celibacy than marriage 
+with such a being!</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p107b.jpg">
+<img alt="She was unable to take the four rabbits" 
+src="images/p107s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p>These were the thoughts that had been coursing through my 
+goose-girl mind while I had been selling dressed poultry, but in 
+some way they had not prepared me for the appearance of the 
+aforesaid true love.</p>
+<p>To see the very person whom one has left civilisation to avoid
+is always more or less surprising, and to make the meeting less 
+likely, Buffington is even farther from Oxenbridge than Barbury 
+Green.&nbsp; The creature was well mounted (ominous, when he came
+to override my caprice!) and he looked bigger, and, yes, 
+handsomer, though that doesn&rsquo;t signify, and still more 
+determined than when I saw him last; although goodness knows that
+timidity and feebleness of purpose were not in striking evidence 
+on that memorable occasion.&nbsp; I had drawn up under the shade 
+of a tree ostensibly to eat some cherries, thinking that if I 
+turned my face away I might pass unrecognised.&nbsp; It was a 
+stupid plan, for if I had whipped up the mare and driven on, he 
+of course, would have had to follow, and he has too much dignity 
+and self-respect to shriek recriminations into a woman&rsquo;s 
+ear from a distance.</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p109b.jpg">
+<img alt="The creature was well mounted" src="images/p109s.jpg" 
+/>
+</a></p>
+<p>He approached with deliberation, reined in his horse, and 
+lifted his hat ceremoniously.&nbsp; He has an extremely shapely 
+head, but I did not show that the sight of it melted in the least
+the ice of my resolve; whereupon we talked, not very freely at 
+first,&mdash;men are so stiff when they consider themselves 
+injured.&nbsp; However, silence is even more embarrassing than 
+conversation, so at length I begin:&mdash;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;It is a lovely 
+day.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Yes, but the drought is getting
+rather oppressive, don&rsquo;t you think?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;The crops 
+certainly need rain, and the feed is becoming scarce.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Are you a farmer&rsquo;s 
+wife?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Oh no! that is a
+promotion to look forward to; I am now only a Goose 
+Girl.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Indeed!&nbsp; If I wished to be
+severe I might remark: that I am sure you have found at last your
+true vocation!&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;It was certainly
+through no desire to please <i>you</i> that I chose 
+it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;I am quite sure of that!&nbsp; 
+Are you staying in this part?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Oh no!&nbsp; I 
+live many miles distant, over an extremely rough road.&nbsp; And 
+you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;I am still at the Hydropathic; 
+or at least my luggage is there.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;It must be very 
+pleasant to attract you so long.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Not so pleasant as it 
+was.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;No?&nbsp; A new 
+proprietor, I suppose.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;No; same proprietor; but the 
+house is empty.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i> (yawning 
+purposely).&mdash;&ldquo;That is strange; the hotels are usually 
+so full at this season.&nbsp; Why did so many leave?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;As a matter of fact, only one 
+left.&nbsp; &lsquo;Full&rsquo; and &lsquo;empty&rsquo; are purely
+relative terms.&nbsp; I call a hotel full when it has you in it, 
+empty when it hasn&rsquo;t.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i> (dying to laugh, but 
+concealing her feelings).&mdash;&ldquo;I trust my bulk does not 
+make the same impression on the general public!&nbsp; Well, I 
+won&rsquo;t detain you longer; good afternoon; I must go home to 
+my evening work.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;I will accompany 
+you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;If you are a 
+gentleman you will remain where you are.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;In the road?&nbsp; Perhaps; but
+if I am a man I shall follow you; they always do, I notice.&nbsp;
+What are those foolish bundles in the back of that silly 
+cart?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Feed for the 
+pony, please, sir; fish for dinner; randans and barley meal for 
+the poultry; and four unsold rabbits.&nbsp; Wouldn&rsquo;t you 
+like them?&nbsp; Only one and sixpence apiece.&nbsp; Shot at 
+three o&rsquo;clock this morning.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Thanks; I don&rsquo;t like mine
+shot so early.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Oh, well! 
+doubtless I shall be able to dispose of them on my way home, 
+though times is &rsquo;ard!&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Do you mean that you will 
+&ldquo;peddle&rdquo; them along the road?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;You understand 
+me better than usual,&mdash;in fact to perfection.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He dismounts and strides to the back of the cart, lifts the 
+covers, seizes the rabbits, flings some silver contemptuously 
+into the basket, and looks about him for a place to bury his 
+bargain.&nbsp; A small boy approaching in the far distance will 
+probably bag the game.</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i> 
+(modestly).&mdash;&ldquo;Thanks for your trade, sir, rather 
+ungraciously bestowed, and we &rsquo;opes for a continuance of 
+your past fyvors.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i> (leaning on the wheel of the 
+trap).&mdash;&ldquo;Let us stop this nonsense.&nbsp; What did you
+hope to gain by running away?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Distance and 
+absence.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;You knew you couldn&rsquo;t 
+prevent my offering myself to you sometime or other.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Perhaps not; but
+I could at least defer it, couldn&rsquo;t I?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Why postpone the 
+inevitable?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Doubtless I 
+shrank from giving you the pain of a refusal.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Perhaps; but do you know what I
+suspect?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not a 
+suspicious person, thank goodness!&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;That, on the contrary, you are 
+wilfully withholding from me the joy of acceptance.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;If I intended to
+accept you, why did I run away?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;To make yourself more desirable
+and precious, I suppose.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i> (with the most confident 
+coquetry).&mdash;&ldquo;Did I succeed?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;No; you failed 
+utterly.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i> (secretly 
+piqued).&mdash;&ldquo;Then I am glad I tried it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;You couldn&rsquo;t succeed 
+because you were superlatively desirable and precious already; 
+but you should never have experimented.&nbsp; Don&rsquo;t you 
+know that Love is a high explosive?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Is it?&nbsp; 
+Then it ought always to be labelled &lsquo;dangerous,&rsquo; 
+oughtn&rsquo;t it?&nbsp; But who thought of suggesting 
+matches?&nbsp; I&rsquo;m sure I didn&rsquo;t!&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;No such luck; I wish you 
+would.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;According to 
+your theory, if you apply a match to Love it is likely to 
+&lsquo;go off.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;I wish you would try it on mine
+and await the result.&nbsp; Come now, you&rsquo;ll have to marry 
+somebody, sometime.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;I confess I 
+don&rsquo;t see the necessity.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i> (morosely).&mdash;&ldquo;You&rsquo;re the 
+sort of woman men won&rsquo;t leave in undisturbed spinsterhood; 
+they&rsquo;ll keep on badgering you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Oh, I 
+don&rsquo;t mind the badgering of a number of men; it&rsquo;s 
+rather nice.&nbsp; It&rsquo;s the one badger I find 
+obnoxious.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i> (impatiently).&mdash;&ldquo;That&rsquo;s just
+the perversity of things.&nbsp; I could put a stop to the 
+protestations of the many; I should like nothing better&mdash;but
+the pertinacity of the one!&nbsp; Ah, well!&nbsp; I can&rsquo;t 
+drop that without putting an end to my existence.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i> (politely).&mdash;&ldquo;I 
+shouldn&rsquo;t think of suggesting anything so 
+extreme.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i> (quoting).&mdash;&ldquo;&lsquo;Mrs. Hauksbee 
+proceeded to take the conceit out of Pluffles as you remove the 
+ribs of an umbrella before re-covering.&rsquo;&nbsp; However, you
+couldn&rsquo;t ask me anything seriously that I wouldn&rsquo;t 
+do, dear Mistress Perversity.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i> (yielding a 
+point).&mdash;&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll put that boldly to the 
+proof.&nbsp; Say you don&rsquo;t love me!&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i> (seizing his advantage).&mdash;&ldquo;I 
+don&rsquo;t!&nbsp; It&rsquo;s imbecile and besotted 
+devotion!&nbsp; Tell me, when may I come to take you 
+away?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i> 
+(sighing).&mdash;&ldquo;It&rsquo;s like asking me to leave 
+Heaven.&rdquo;</p>
+<p style="text-align: center">
+<a href="images/p115b.jpg">
+<img alt="Ph&oelig;be and Gladwish" src="images/p115s.jpg" />
+</a></p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;I know it; she told me where to
+find you,&mdash;Thornycroft is the seventh poultry-farm 
+I&rsquo;ve visited,&mdash;but you could never leave Heaven, you 
+can&rsquo;t be happy without poultry, why that is a wish easily 
+gratified.&nbsp; I&rsquo;ll get you a farm to-morrow; no, 
+it&rsquo;s Saturday, and the real estate offices close at noon, 
+but on Monday, without fail.&nbsp; Your ducks and geese, always 
+carrying it along with you.&nbsp; All you would have to do is to 
+admit me; Heaven is full of twos.&nbsp; If you shall swim on a 
+crystal lake&mdash;Ph&oelig;be told me what a genius you have for
+getting them out of the muddy pond; she was sitting beside it 
+when I called, her hand in that of a straw-coloured person named 
+Gladwish, and the ground in her vicinity completely strewn with 
+votive offerings.&nbsp; You shall splash your silver sea with an 
+ivory wand; your hens shall have suburban cottages, each with its
+garden; their perches shall be of satin-wood and their water 
+dishes of mother-of-pearl.&nbsp; You shall be the Goose Girl and 
+I will be the Swan Herd&mdash;simply to be near you&mdash;for I 
+hate live poultry.&nbsp; Dost like the picture?&nbsp; It&rsquo;s 
+a little like Claude Melnotte&rsquo;s, I confess.&nbsp; The fact 
+is I am not quite sane; talking with you after a fortnight of the
+tabbies at the Hydro is like quaffing inebriating vodka after 
+Miffin&rsquo;s Food!&nbsp; May I come to-morrow?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiffs Daughter</i> (hedging).&mdash;&ldquo;I shall be 
+rather busy; the Crossed Minorca hen comes off 
+to-morrow.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Oh, never mind!&nbsp; 
+I&rsquo;ll take her off to-night when I escort you to the farm; 
+then she&rsquo;ll get a day&rsquo;s advantage.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;And rob fourteen
+prospective chicks of a mother; nay, lose the chicks 
+themselves?&nbsp; Never!&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;So long as you are a Goose 
+Girl, does it make any difference whose you are?&nbsp; Is it any 
+more agreeable to be Mrs. Heaven&rsquo;s Goose Girl than 
+mine?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Ah! but in one 
+case the term of service is limited; in the other, 
+permanent.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;But in the one case you are the
+slave of the employer, in the other the employer of the 
+slave.&nbsp; Why did you run away?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;A man&rsquo;s 
+mind is too dull an instrument to measure a woman&rsquo;s reason;
+even my own fails sometimes to deal with all its delicate shades;
+but I think I must have run away chiefly to taste the pleasure of
+being pursued and brought back.&nbsp; If it is necessary to your 
+happiness that you should explore all the Bluebeard chambers of 
+my being, I will confess further that it has taken you nearly 
+three weeks to accomplish what I supposed you would do in three 
+days!&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i> (after a well-spent 
+interval).&mdash;&ldquo;To-morrow, then; shall we say before 
+breakfast?&nbsp; All, do!&nbsp; Why not?&nbsp; Well, then, 
+immediately after breakfast, and I breakfast at seven nowadays, 
+and sometimes earlier.&nbsp; Do take off those ugly cotton 
+gloves, dear; they are five sizes too large for you, and so rough
+and baggy to the touch!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DIARY OF A GOOSE GIRL***</p>
+<pre>
+
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+</pre></body>
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Diary of a Goose Girl, by Kate Douglas
+Smith Wiggin, Illustrated by Claude A. Shepperson
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Diary of a Goose Girl
+
+
+Author: Kate Douglas Smith Wiggin
+
+
+
+Release Date: May 15, 2007  [eBook #1867]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DIARY OF A GOOSE GIRL***
+
+
+
+
+Transcribed from the 1902 Gay and Bird edition by David Price, email
+ccx074@coventry.ac.uk
+
+{Book cover: cover.jpg}
+
+
+
+
+
+THE DIARY OF A GOOSE GIRL
+
+
+BY
+KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN
+
+WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY
+CLAUDE A. SHEPPERSON
+
+GAY AND BIRD
+22 BEDFORD STREET, STRAND
+LONDON
+1902
+
+{I looked about me with what Stevenson calls a 'fine dizzy, muddle-headed
+job': p01.jpg}
+
+TO THE HENS, DUCKS, AND GEESE
+WHO SO KINDLY GAVE ME
+SITTINGS FOR THESE
+SKETCHES THE BOOK
+IS GRATEFULLY
+INSCRIBED
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+{Thornycroft House: p1a.jpg}
+
+THORNYCROFT FARM, near Barbury Green, July 1, 190-.
+
+{Picture of woman and goose: p1b.jpg}
+
+In alluding to myself as a Goose Girl, I am using only the most modest of
+my titles; for I am also a poultry-maid, a tender of Belgian hares and
+rabbits, and a shepherdess; but I particularly fancy the role of Goose
+Girl, because it recalls the German fairy tales of my early youth, when I
+always yearned, but never hoped, to be precisely what I now am.
+
+As I was jolting along these charming Sussex roads the other day, a fat
+buff pony and a tippy cart being my manner of progression, I chanced upon
+the village of Barbury Green.
+
+One glance was enough for any woman, who, having eyes to see, could see
+with them; but I made assurance doubly sure by driving about a little,
+struggling to conceal my new-born passion from the stable-boy who was my
+escort.  Then, it being high noon of a cloudless day, I descended from
+the trap and said to the astonished yokel: "You may go back to the
+Hydropathic; I am spending a month or two here.  Wait a moment--I'll send
+a message, please!"
+
+I then scribbled a word or two to those having me in custody.
+
+"I am very tired of people," the note ran, "and want to rest myself by
+living a while with things.  Address me (if you must) at Barbury Green
+post-office, or at all events send me a box of simple clothing
+there--nothing but shirts and skirts, please.  I cannot forget that I am
+only twenty miles from Oxenbridge (though it might be one hundred and
+twenty, which is the reason I adore it), but I rely upon you to keep an
+honourable distance yourselves, and not to divulge my place of retreat to
+others, especially to--you know whom!  Do not pursue me.  I will never be
+taken alive!"
+
+Having cut, thus, the cable that bound me to civilisation, and having
+seen the buff pony and the dazed yokel disappear in a cloud of dust, I
+looked about me with what Stevenson calls a "fine, dizzy, muddle-headed
+joy," the joy of a successful rebel or a liberated serf.  Plenty of money
+in my purse--that was unromantic, of course, but it simplified
+matters--and nine hours of daylight remaining in which to find a lodging.
+
+{Life converges there, just at the public duck-pond: p3.jpg}
+
+The village is one of the oldest, and I am sure it must be one of the
+quaintest, in England.  It is too small to be printed on the map (an
+honour that has spoiled more than one Arcadia), so pray do not look
+there, but just believe in it, and some day you may be rewarded by
+driving into it by chance, as I did, and feel the same Columbus thrill
+running, like an electric current, through your veins.  I withhold
+specific geographical information in order that you may not miss that
+Columbus thrill, which comes too seldom in a world of railroads.
+
+The Green is in the very centre of Barbury village, and all civic,
+political, family, and social life converges there, just at the public
+duck-pond--a wee, sleepy lake with a slope of grass-covered stones by
+which the ducks descend for their swim.
+
+The houses are set about the Green like those in a toy village.  They are
+of old brick, with crumpled, up-and-down roofs of deep-toned red, and
+tufts of stonecrop growing from the eaves.  Diamond-paned windows, half
+open, admit the sweet summer air; and as for the gardens in front, it
+would seem as if the inhabitants had nothing to do but work in them,
+there is such a riotous profusion of colour and bloom.  To add to the
+effect, there are always pots of flowers hanging from the trees, blue
+flax and yellow myrtle; and cages of Java sparrows and canaries singing
+joyously, as well they may in such a paradise.
+
+{The houses are set about the Green: p5.jpg}
+
+The shops are idyllic, too, as if Nature had seized even the man of trade
+and made him subservient to her designs.  The general draper's, where I
+fitted myself out for a day or two quite easily, is set back in a tangle
+of poppies and sweet peas, Madonna lilies and Canterbury bells.  The shop
+itself has a gay awning, and what do you think the draper has suspended
+from it, just as a picturesque suggestion to the passer-by?  Suggestion I
+call it, because I should blush to use the word advertisement in
+describing anything so dainty and decorative.  Well, then, garlands of
+shoes, if you please!  Baby bootlets of bronze; tiny ankle-ties in
+yellow, blue, and scarlet kid; glossy patent-leather pumps shining in the
+sun, with festoons of slippers at the corners, flowery slippers in
+imitation Berlin wool-work.  If you make this picture in your mind's-eye,
+just add a window above the awning, and over the fringe of marigolds in
+the window-box put the draper's wife dancing a rosy-cheeked baby.  Alas!
+my words are only black and white, I fear, and this picture needs a
+palette drenched in primary colours.
+
+Along the street, a short distance, is the old watchmaker's.  Set in the
+hedge at the gate is a glass case with _Multum in Parvo_ painted on the
+woodwork.  Within, a little stand of trinkets revolves slowly; as slowly,
+I imagine, as the current of business in that quiet street.  The house
+stands a trifle back and is covered thickly with ivy, while over the
+entrance-door of the shop is a great round clock set in a green frame of
+clustering vine.  The hands pointed to one when I passed the watchmaker's
+garden with its thicket of fragrant lavender and its murmuring bees; so I
+went in to the sign of the "Strong i' the Arm" for some cold luncheon,
+determining to patronise "The Running Footman" at the very next
+opportunity.  Neither of these inns is starred by Baedeker, and this fact
+adds the last touch of enchantment to the picture.
+
+The landlady at the "Strong i' the Arm" stabbed me in the heart by
+telling me that there were no apartments to let in the village, and that
+she had no private sitting-room in the inn; but she speedily healed the
+wound by saying that I might be accommodated at one of the farm-houses in
+the vicinity.  Did I object to a farm-'ouse?  Then she could cheerfully
+recommend the Evan's farm, only 'alf a mile away.  She 'ad understood
+from Miss Phoebe Evan, who sold her poultry, that they would take one
+lady lodger if she didn't wish much waiting upon.
+
+In my present mood I was in search of the strenuous life, and eager to
+wait, rather than to be waited upon; so I walked along the edge of the
+Green, wishing that some mentally unbalanced householder would take a
+sudden fancy to me and ask me to come in and lodge awhile.  I suppose
+these families live under their roofs of peach-blow tiles, in the midst
+of their blooming gardens, for a guinea a week or thereabouts; yet if
+they "undertook" me (to use their own phrase), the bill for my humble
+meals and bed would be at least double that.  I don't know that I blame
+them; one should have proper compensation for admitting a world-stained
+lodger into such an Eden.
+
+When I was searching for rooms a week ago, I chanced upon a pretty
+cottage where the woman had sometimes let apartments.  She showed me the
+premises and asked me if I would mind taking my meals in her own dining-
+room, where I could be served privately at certain hours: and, since she
+had but the one sitting-room, would I allow her to go on using it
+occasionally? also, if I had no special preference, would I take the
+second-sized bedroom and leave her in possession of the largest one,
+which permitted her to have the baby's crib by her bedside?  She thought
+I should be quite as comfortable, and it was her opinion that in making
+arrangements with lodgers, it was a good plan not to "bryke up the 'ome
+any more than was necessary."
+
+"Bryke up the 'ome!"  That is seemingly the malignant purpose with which
+I entered Barbury Green.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+July 4th.
+
+Enter the family of Thornycroft Farm, of which I am already a member in
+good and regular standing.
+
+I introduce Mrs. Heaven first, for she is a self-saturated person who
+would never forgive the insult should she receive any lower place.
+
+She welcomed me with the statement: "We do not take lodgers here, nor
+boarders; no lodgers, nor boarders, but we do occasionally admit paying
+guests, those who look as if they would appreciate the quietude of the
+plyce and be willing as you might say to remunerate according."
+
+{Mrs. Heaven: p10.jpg}
+
+I did not mind at this particular juncture what I was called, so long as
+the epithet was comparatively unobjectionable, so I am a paying guest,
+therefore, and I expect to pay handsomely for the handsome appellation.
+Mrs. Heaven is short and fat; she fills her dress as a pin-cushion fills
+its cover; she wears a cap and apron, and she is so full of platitudes
+that she would have burst had I not appeared as a providential outlet for
+them.  Her accent is not of the farm, but of the town, and smacks wholly
+of the marts of trade.  She is repetitious, too, as well as
+platitudinous.  "I 'ope if there's anythink you require you will let us
+know, let us know," she says several times each day; and whenever she
+enters my sitting-room she prefaces her conversation with the remark: "I
+trust you are finding it quiet here, miss?  It's the quietude of the
+plyce that is its charm, yes, the quietude.  And yet" (she dribbles on)
+"it wears on a body after a while, miss.  I often go into Woodmucket to
+visit one of my sons just for the noise, simply for the noise, miss, for
+nothink else in the world but the noise.  There's nothink like noise for
+soothing nerves that is worn threadbare with the quietude, miss, or at
+least that's my experience; and yet to a strynger the quietude of the
+plyce is its charm, undoubtedly its chief charm; and that is what our
+paying guests always say, although our charges are somewhat higher than
+other plyces.  If there's anythink you require, miss, I 'ope you'll
+mention it.  There is not a commodious assortment in Barbury Green, but
+we can always send the pony to Woodmucket in case of urgency.  Our paying
+guest last summer was a Mrs. Pollock, and she was by way of having sudden
+fancies.  Young and unmarried though you are, miss, I think you will tyke
+my meaning without my speaking plyner?  Well, at six o'clock of a rainy
+afternoon, she was seized with an unaccountable desire for vegetable
+marrows, and Mr. 'Eaven put the pony in the cart and went to Woodmucket
+for them, which is a great advantage to be so near a town and yet 'ave
+the quietude."
+
+{Mr. Heaven: p11.jpg}
+
+Mr. Heaven is merged, like Mr. Jellyby, in the more shining qualities of
+his wife.  A line of description is too long for him.  Indeed, I can
+think of no single word brief enough, at least in English.  The Latin
+"nil" will do, since no language is rich in words of less than three
+letters.  He is nice, kind, bald, timid, thin, and so colourless that he
+can scarcely be discerned save in a strong light.  When Mrs. Heaven goes
+out into the orchard in search of him, I can hardly help calling from my
+window, "Bear a trifle to the right, Mrs. Heaven--now to the left--just
+in front of you now--if you put out your hands you will touch him."
+
+Phoebe, aged seventeen, is the daughter of the house.  She is virtuous,
+industrious, conscientious, and singularly destitute of physical charm.
+She is more than plain; she looks as if she had been planned without any
+definite purpose in view, made of the wrong materials, been badly put
+together, and never properly finished off; but "plain" after all is a
+relative word.  Many a plain girl has been married for her beauty; and
+now and then a beauty, falling under a cold eye, has been thought plain.
+
+Phoebe has her compensations, for she is beloved by, and reciprocates the
+passion of, the Woodmancote carrier, Woodmucket being the English manner
+of pronouncing the place of his abode.  If he "carries" as energetically
+for the great public as he fetches for Phoebe, then he must be a rising
+and a prosperous man.  He brings her daily, wild strawberries, cherries,
+birds' nests, peacock feathers, sea-shells, green hazel-nuts, samples of
+hens' food, or bouquets of wilted field flowers tied together tightly and
+held with a large, moist, loving hand.  He has fine curly hair of sandy
+hue, which forms an aureole on his brow, and a reddish beard, which makes
+another inverted aureole to match, round his chin.  One cannot look at
+him, especially when the sun shines through him, without thinking how
+lovely he would be if stuffed and set on wheels, with a little string to
+drag him about.
+
+{The Woodmancote carrier: p13.jpg}
+
+Phoebe confided to me that she was on the eve of loving the postman when
+the carrier came across her horizon.
+
+"It doesn't do to be too hysty, does it, miss?" she asked me as we were
+weeding the onion bed.  "I was to give the postman his answer on the
+Monday night, and it was on the Monday morning that Mr. Gladwish made his
+first trip here as carrier.  I may say I never wyvered from that moment,
+and no more did he.  When I think how near I came to promising the
+postman it gives me a turn."  (I can understand that, for I once met the
+man I nearly promised years before to marry, and we both experienced such
+a sense of relief at being free instead of bound that we came near
+falling in love for sheer joy.)
+
+{Picture of toy on wheels: p14.jpg}
+
+The last and most important member of the household is the Square Baby.
+His name is Albert Edward, and he is really five years old and no baby at
+all; but his appearance on this planet was in the nature of a complete
+surprise to all parties concerned, and he is spoiled accordingly.  He has
+a square head and jaw, square shoulders, square hands and feet.  He is
+red and white and solid and stolid and slow-witted, as the young of his
+class commonly are, and will make a bulwark of the nation in course of
+time, I should think; for England has to produce a few thousand such
+square babies every year for use in the colonies and in the standing
+army.  Albert Edward has already a military gait, and when he has
+acquired a habit of obedience at all comparable with his power of
+command, he will be able to take up the white man's burden with
+distinguished success.  Meantime I can never look at him without
+marvelling how the English climate can transmute bacon and eggs, tea and
+the solid household loaf into such radiant roses and lilies as bloom upon
+his cheeks and lips.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+July 8th.
+
+Thornycroft is by way of being a small poultry farm.
+
+In reaching it from Barbury Green, you take the first left-hand road, go
+till you drop, and there you are.
+
+It reminds me of my "grandmother's farm at Older."  Did you know the song
+when you were a child?--
+
+   My grandmother had a very fine farm
+      'Way down in the fields of Older.
+         With a cluck-cluck here,
+         And a cluck-cluck there,
+         Here and there a cluck-cluck,
+         Cluck-cluck here and there,
+      Down in the fields at Older.
+
+It goes on for ever by the simple subterfuge of changing a few words in
+each verse.
+
+   My grandmother had a very fine farm
+      'Way down in the fields of Older.
+         With a quack-quack here,
+         And a quack-quack there,
+         Here and there a quack-quack,
+         Quack-quack here and there,
+      Down in the fields at Older.
+
+This is followed by the gobble-gobble, moo-moo, baa-baa, etc., as long as
+the laureate's imagination and the infant's breath hold good.  The tune
+is pretty, and I do not know, or did not, when I was young, a more
+fascinating lyric.
+
+{The sitting hens: p17.jpg}
+
+Thornycroft House must have belonged to a country gentleman once upon a
+time, or to more than one; men who built on a bit here and there once in
+a hundred years, until finally we have this charmingly irregular and
+dilapidated whole.  You go up three steps into Mrs. Heaven's room, down
+two into mine, while Phoebe's is up in a sort of turret with long, narrow
+lattices opening into the creepers.  There are crooked little
+stair-cases, passages that branch off into other passages and lead
+nowhere in particular; I can't think of a better house in which to play
+hide and seek on a wet day.  In front, what was once, doubtless, a green,
+is cut up into greens; to wit, a vegetable garden, where the onions,
+turnips, and potatoes grow cosily up to the very door-sill; the
+utilitarian aspect of it all being varied by some scarlet-runners and a
+scattering of poppies on either side of the path.
+
+The Belgian hares have their habitation in a corner fifty feet distant;
+one large enclosure for poultry lies just outside the sweetbrier hedge;
+the others, with all the houses and coops, are in the meadow at the back,
+where also our tumbler pigeons are kept.
+
+Phoebe attends to the poultry; it is her department.  Mr. Heaven has
+neither the force nor the _finesse_ required, and the gentle reader who
+thinks these qualities unneeded in so humble a calling has only to spend
+a few days at Thornycroft to be convinced.  Mrs. Heaven would be of use,
+but she is dressing the Square Baby in the morning and putting him to bed
+at night just at the hours when the feathered young things are undergoing
+the same operation.
+
+A Goose Girl, like a poet, is sometimes born, sometimes otherwise.  I am
+of the born variety.  No training was necessary; I put my head on my
+pillow as a complicated product of modern civilisation on a Tuesday
+night, and on a Wednesday morning I awoke as a Goose Girl.
+
+{Hens . . . go to bed at a virtuous hour: p19.jpg}
+
+My destiny slumbered during the day, but at eight o'clock I heard a
+terrific squawking in the direction of the duck-ponds, and, aimlessly
+drifting in that direction, I came upon Phoebe trying to induce ducks and
+drakes, geese and ganders, to retire for the night.  They have to be
+driven into enclosures behind fences of wire netting, fastened into
+little rat-proof boxes, or shut into separate coops, so as to be safe
+from their natural enemies, the rats and foxes; which, obeying, I
+suppose, the law of supply and demand, abound in this neighbourhood.  The
+old ganders are allowed their liberty, being of such age, discretion,
+sagacity, and pugnacity that they can be trusted to fight their own
+battles.
+
+{Ducks and geese . . . would roam the streets till morning: p20.jpg}
+
+The intelligence of hens, though modest, is of such an order that it
+prompts them to go to bed at a virtuous hour of their own accord; but
+ducks and geese have to be materially assisted, or I believe they would
+roam till morning.  Never did small boy detest and resist being carried
+off to his nursery as these dullards, young and old, detest and resist
+being driven to theirs.  Whether they suffer from insomnia, or nightmare,
+or whether they simply prefer the sweet air of liberty (and death) to the
+odour of captivity and the coop, I have no means of knowing.
+
+{The pole was not long enough: p21.jpg}
+
+Phoebe stood by one of the duck-ponds, a long pole in her hand, and a
+helpless expression in that doughlike countenance of hers, where aimless
+contours and features unite to make a kind of facial blur.  (What does
+the carrier see in it?)  The pole was not long enough to reach the ducks,
+and Phoebe's method lacked spirit and adroitness, so that it was natural,
+perhaps, that they refused to leave the water, the evening being warm,
+with an uncommon fine sunset.
+
+{They . . . waddle under the wrong fence: p22.jpg}
+
+I saw the situation at once and ran to meet it with a glow of interest
+and anticipation.  If there is anything in the world I enjoy, it is
+making somebody do something that he doesn't want to do; and if, when
+victory perches upon my banner, the somebody can be brought to say that
+he ought to have done it without my making him, that adds the
+unforgettable touch to pleasure, though seldom, alas! does it happen.
+Then ensued the delightful and stimulating hour that has now become a
+feature of the day; an hour in which the remembrance of the table-d'hote
+dinner at the Hydro, going on at identically the same time, only stirs me
+to a keener joy and gratitude.
+
+{Honking and hissing like a bewildered orchestra: p23.jpg}
+
+{Harried and pecked by the big geese: p24.jpg}
+
+The ducks swim round in circles, hide under the willows, and attempt to
+creep into the rat-holes in the banks, a stupidity so crass that it
+merits instant death, which it somehow always escapes.  Then they come
+out in couples and waddle under the wrong fence into the lower meadow,
+fly madly under the tool-house, pitch blindly in with the sitting hens,
+and out again in short order, all the time quacking and squawking,
+honking and hissing like a bewildered orchestra.  By dint of splashing
+the water with poles, throwing pebbles, beating the shrubs at the pond's
+edges, "shooing" frantically with our skirts, crawling beneath bars to
+head them off, and prodding them from under bushes to urge them on, we
+finally get the older ones out of the water and the younger ones into
+some sort of relation to their various retreats; but, owing to their lack
+of geography, hatred of home, and general recalcitrancy, they none of
+them turn up in the right place and have to be sorted out.  We uncover
+the top of the little house, or the enclosure as it may be, or reach in
+at the door, and, seizing the struggling victim, drag him forth and take
+him where he should have had the wit to go in the first instance.  The
+weak ones get in with the strong and are in danger of being trampled; two
+May goslings that look almost full-grown have run into a house with a
+brood of ducklings a week old.  There are twenty-seven crowded into one
+coop, five in another, nineteen in another; the gosling with one leg has
+to come out, and the duckling threatened with the gapes; their place is
+with the "invaleeds," as Phoebe calls them, but they never learn the
+location of the hospital, nor have the slightest scruple about spreading
+contagious diseases.
+
+{In solitary splendour: p25.jpg}
+
+Finally, when we have separated and sorted exhaustively, an operation in
+which Phoebe shows a delicacy of discrimination and a fearlessness of
+attack amounting to genius, we count the entire number and find several
+missing.  Searching for their animate or inanimate bodies, we "scoop" one
+from under the tool-house, chance upon two more who are being harried and
+pecked by the big geese in the lower meadow, and discover one sailing by
+himself in solitary splendour in the middle of the deserted pond, a look
+of evil triumph in his bead-like eye.  Still we lack one young duckling,
+and he at length is found dead by the hedge.  A rat has evidently seized
+him and choked him at a single throttle, but in such haste that he has
+not had time to carry away the tiny body.
+
+"Poor think!" says Phoebe tearfully; "it looks as if it was 'it with some
+kind of a wepping.  I don't know whatever to do with the rats, they're
+gettin' that fearocious!"
+
+Before I was admitted into daily contact with the living goose (my
+previous intercourse with him having been carried on when gravy and
+stuffing obscured his true personality), I thought him a very Dreyfus
+among fowls, a sorely slandered bird, to whom justice had never been
+done; for even the gentle Darwin is hard upon him.  My opinion is
+undergoing some slight modifications, but I withhold judgment at present,
+hoping that some of the follies, faults, vagaries, and limitations that I
+observe in Phoebe's geese may be due to Phoebe's educational methods,
+which were, before my advent, those of the darkest ages.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+{Dryshod warnings which are never heeded: p27.jpg}
+
+July 9th.
+
+By the time the ducks and geese are incarcerated for the night, the
+reasonable, sensible, practical-minded hens--especially those whose
+mentality is increased and whose virtue is heightened by the
+responsibilities of motherhood--have gone into their own particular rat-
+proof boxes, where they are waiting in a semi-somnolent state to have the
+wire doors closed, the bricks set against them, and the bits of sacking
+flung over the tops to keep out the draught.  We have a great many young
+families, both ducklings and chicks, but we have no duck mothers at
+present.  The variety of bird which Phoebe seems to have bred during the
+past year may be called the New Duck, with certain radical ideas about
+woman's sphere.  What will happen to Thornycroft if we develop a New Hen
+and a New Cow, my imagination fails to conceive.  There does not seem to
+be the slightest danger for the moment, however, and our hens lay and sit
+and sit and lay as if laying and sitting were the twin purposes of life.
+
+{The mother goes off to bed: p28.jpg}
+
+The nature of the hen seems to broaden with the duties of maternity, but
+I think myself that we presume a little upon her amiability and natural
+motherliness.  It is one thing to desire a family of one's own, to lay
+eggs with that idea in view, to sit upon them three long weeks and hatch
+out and bring up a nice brood of chicks.  It must be quite another to
+have one's eggs abstracted day by day and eaten by a callous public, the
+nest filled with deceitful substitutes, and at the end of a dull and
+weary period of hatching to bring into the world another person's
+children--children, too, of the wrong size, the wrong kind of bills and
+feet, and, still more subtle grievance, the wrong kind of instincts,
+leading them to a dangerous aquatic career, one which the mother may not
+enter to guide, guard, and teach; one on the brink of which she must ever
+stand, uttering dryshod warnings which are never heeded.  They grow used
+to this strange order of things after a bit, it is true, and are less
+anxious and excited.  When the duck-brood returns safely again and again
+from what the hen-mother thinks will prove a watery grave, she becomes
+accustomed to the situation, I suppose.  I find that at night she stands
+by the pond for what she considers a decent, self-respecting length of
+time, calling the ducklings out of the water; then, if they refuse to
+come, the mother goes off to bed and leaves them to Providence, or Phoebe.
+
+{Cornelia and the web-footed Gracchi: p29.jpg}
+
+The brown hen that we have named Cornelia is the best mother, the one who
+waits longest and most patiently for the web-footed Gracchi to finish
+their swim.
+
+When a chick is taken out of the incubytor (as Phoebe calls it) and
+refused by all the other hens, Cornelia generally accepts it, though she
+had twelve of her own when we began using her as an orphan asylum.  "Wings
+are made to stretch," she seems to say cheerfully, and with a kind glance
+of her round eye she welcomes the wanderer and the outcast.  She even
+tended for a time the offspring of an absent-minded, light-headed
+pheasant who flew over a four-foot wall and left her young behind her to
+starve; it was not a New Pheasant, either; for the most conservative and
+old-fashioned of her tribe occasionally commits domestic solecisms of
+this sort.
+
+{An orphan asylum: p30.jpg}
+
+There is no telling when, where, or how the maternal instinct will assert
+itself.  Among our Thornycroft cats is a certain Mrs. Greyskin.  She had
+not been seen for many days, and Mrs. Heaven concluded that she had
+hidden herself somewhere with a family of kittens; but as the supply of
+that article with us more than equals the demand, we had not searched for
+her with especial zeal.
+
+{Phoebe and I followed her stealthily: p31.jpg}
+
+The other day Mrs. Greyskin appeared at the dairy door, and when she had
+been fed Phoebe and I followed her stealthily, from a distance.  She
+walked slowly about as if her mind were quite free from harassing care,
+and finally approached a deserted cow-house where there was a great mound
+of straw.  At this moment she caught sight of us and turned in another
+direction to throw us off the scent.  We persevered in our intention of
+going into her probable retreat, and were cautiously looking for some
+sign of life in the haymow, when we heard a soft cackle and a ruffling of
+plumage.  Coming closer to the sound we saw a black hen brooding a nest,
+her bright bead eyes turning nervously from side to side; and, coaxed out
+from her protecting wings by youthful curiosity, came four kittens, eyes
+wide open, warm, happy, ready for sport!
+
+The sight was irresistible, and Phoebe ran for Mr. and Mrs. Heaven and
+the Square Baby.  Mother Hen was not to be embarrassed or daunted, even
+if her most sacred feelings were regarded in the light of a cheap
+entertainment.  She held her ground while one of the kits slid up and
+down her glossy back, and two others, more timid, crept underneath her
+breast, only daring to put out their pink noses!  We retired then for
+very shame and met Mrs. Greyskin in the doorway.  This should have
+thickened the plot, but there is apparently no rivalry nor animosity
+between the co-mothers.  We watch them every day now, through a window in
+the roof.  Mother Greyskin visits the kittens frequently, lies down
+beside the home nest, and gives them their dinner.  While this is going
+on Mother Blackwing goes modestly away for a bite, a sup, and a little
+exercise, returning to the kittens when the cat leaves them.  It is
+pretty to see her settle down over the four, fat, furry dumplings, and
+they seem to know no difference in warmth or comfort, whichever mother is
+brooding them; while, as their eyes have been open for a week, it can no
+longer be called a blind error on their part.
+
+{Coaxed out . . . by youthful curiosity: p33.jpg}
+
+When we have closed all our small hen-nurseries for the night, there is
+still the large house inhabited by the thirty-two full-grown chickens
+which Phoebe calls the broilers.  I cannot endure the term, and will not
+use it.  "Now for the April chicks," I say every evening.
+
+"Do you mean the broilers?" asks Phoebe.
+
+"I mean the big April chicks," say I.
+
+"Yes, them are the broilers," says she.
+
+But is it not disagreeable enough to be a broiler when one's time comes,
+without having the gridiron waved in one's face for weeks beforehand?
+
+{Nine huddle together: p34.jpg}
+
+The April chicks are all lively and desirous of seeing the world as
+thoroughly as possible before going to roost or broil.  As a general
+thing, we find in the large house sixteen young fowls of the
+contemplative, flavourless, resigned-to-the-inevitable variety; three
+more (the same three every night) perch on the roof and are driven down;
+four (always the same four) cling to the edge of the open door, waiting
+to fly off, but not in, when you attempt to close it; nine huddle
+together on a place in the grass about forty feet distant, where a small
+coop formerly stood in the prehistoric ages.  This small coop was one in
+which they lodged for a fortnight when they were younger, and when those
+absolutely indelible impressions are formed of which we read in
+educational maxims.  It was taken away long since, but the nine loyal (or
+stupid) Casabiancas cling to the sacred spot where its foundations
+rested; they accordingly have to be caught and deposited bodily in the
+house, and this requires strategy, as they note our approach from a
+considerable distance.
+
+{Of a wandering mind: p35.jpg}
+
+Finally all are housed but two, the little white cock and the black
+pullet, who are still impish and of a wandering mind.  Though headed off
+in every direction, they fly into the hedges and hide in the underbrush.
+We beat the hedge on the other side, but with no avail.  We dive into the
+thicket of wild roses, sweetbrier, and thistles on our hands and knees,
+coming out with tangled hair, scratched noses, and no hens.  Then, when
+all has been done that human ingenuity can suggest, Phoebe goes to her
+late supper and I do sentry-work.  I stroll to a safe distance, and,
+sitting on one of the rat-proof boxes, watch the bushes with an eagle
+eye.  Five minutes go by, ten, fifteen; and then out steps the white
+cock, stealthily tiptoeing toward the home into which he refused to go at
+our instigation.  In a moment out creeps the obstinate little beast of a
+black pullet from the opposite clump.  The wayward pair meet at their own
+door, which I have left open a few inches.  When all is still I walk
+gently down the field, and, warned by previous experiences, approach the
+house from behind.  I draw the door to softly and quickly; but not so
+quickly that the evil-minded and suspicious black pullet hasn't time to
+spring out, with a make-believe squawk of fright--that induces three
+other blameless chickens to fly down from their perches and set the whole
+flock in a flutter.  Then I fall from grace and call her a Broiler; and
+when, after some minutes of hot pursuit, I catch her by falling over her
+in the corner by the goose-pen, I address her as a fat, juicy Broiler
+with parsley butter and a bit of bacon.
+
+{With tangled hair, scratched noses, and no hens: p36.jpg}
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+July 10th.
+
+At ten thirty or so in the morning the cackling begins.  I wonder exactly
+what it means!  Have the forest-lovers who listen so respectfully to, and
+interpret so exquisitely, the notes of birds--have none of them made
+psychological investigations of the hen cackle?  Can it be simple
+elation?  One could believe that of the first few eggs, but a hen who has
+laid two or three hundred can hardly feel the same exuberant pride and
+joy daily.  Can it be the excitement incident to successful achievement?
+Hardly, because the task is so extremely simple.  Eggs are more or less
+alike; a little larger or smaller, a trifle whiter or browner; and almost
+sure to be quite right as to details; that is, the big end never gets
+confused with the little end, they are always ovoid and never spherical,
+and the yolk is always inside of the white.  As for a soft-shelled egg,
+it is so rare an occurrence that the fear of laying one could not set the
+whole race of hens in a panic; so there really cannot be any intellectual
+or emotional agitation in producing a thing that might be made by a
+machine.  Can it be simply "fussiness"; since the people who have the
+least to do commonly make the most flutter about doing it?
+
+Perhaps it is merely conversation.  "_Cut-cut-cut-cut-cut_-DAH_cut_! . . .
+I have finished my strictly fresh egg, have you laid yours?  Make
+haste, then, for the cock has found a gap in the wire-fence and wants us
+to wander in the strawberry-bed. . . . Cut-cut-cut-cut-cut-DAH_cut_ . . .
+Every moment is precious, for the Goose Girl will find us, when she
+gathers the strawberries for her luncheon . . . Cut-cut-cut-cut!  On the
+way out we can find sweet places to steal nests . . . Cut-cut-cut! . . .
+I am so glad I am not sitting this heavenly morning; it _is_ a dull
+life."
+
+A Lancashire poultryman drifted into Barbury Green yesterday.  He is an
+old acquaintance of Mr. Heaven, and spent the night and part of the next
+day at Thornycroft Farm.  He possessed a deal of fowl philosophy, and
+tells many a good hen story, which, like fish stories, draw rather
+largely on the credulity of the audience.  We were sitting in the
+rickyard talking comfortably about laying and cackling and kindred
+matters when he took his pipe from his mouth and told us the following
+tale--not a bad one if you can translate the dialect:--
+
+'Aw were once towd as, if yo' could only get th' hen's egg away afooar
+she hed sin it, th' hen 'ud think it hed med a mistek an' sit deawn
+ageean an' lay another.
+
+"An' it seemed to me it were a varra sensible way o' lukkin' at it.  Sooa
+aw set to wark to mek a nest as 'ud tek a rise eawt o' th' hens.  An' aw
+dud it too.  Aw med a nest wi' a fause bottom, th' idea bein' as when a
+hen hed laid, th' egg 'ud drop through into a box underneyth.
+
+"Aw felt varra preawd o' that nest, too, aw con tell yo', an' aw remember
+aw felt quite excited when aw see an awd black Minorca, th' best layer as
+aw hed, gooa an' settle hersel deawn i' th' nest an' get ready for wark.
+Th' hen seemed quite comfortable enough, aw were glad to see, an' geet
+through th' operation beawt ony seemin' trouble.
+
+"Well, aw darsay yo' know heaw a hen carries on as soon as it's laid a
+egg.  It starts "chuckin'" away like a showman's racket, an' after
+tekkin' a good Ink at th' egg to see whether it's a big 'un or a little
+'un, gooas eawt an' tells all t'other hens abeawt it.
+
+"Neaw, this black Minorca, as aw sed, were a owdish bird, an' maybe knew
+mooar than aw thowt.  Happen it hed laid on a nest wi' a fause bottom
+afooar, an' were up to th' trick, but whether or not, aw never see a hen
+luk mooar disgusted i' mi life when it lukked i' th' nest an' see as it
+hed hed all that trouble fer nowt.
+
+"It woked reawnd th' nest as if it couldn't believe its own eyes.
+
+"But it dudn't do as aw expected.  Aw expected as it 'ud sit deawn ageean
+an' lay another.
+
+"But it just gi'e one wonderin' sooart o' chuck, an then, after a long
+stare reawnd th' hen-coyt, it woked eawt, as mad a hen as aw've ever sin.
+Aw fun' eawt after, what th' long stare meant.  It were tekkin' farewell!
+For if yo'll believe me that hen never laid another egg i' ony o' my
+nests.
+
+"Varra like it laid away in a spot wheear it could hev summat to luk at
+when it hed done wark for th' day.
+
+"Sooa aw lost mi best layer through mi actin', an' aw've never invented
+owt sen."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+One learns to be modest by living on a poultry farm, for there are
+constant expositions of the most deplorable vanity among the cocks.  We
+have a couple of pea-fowl who certainly are an addition to the landscape,
+as they step mincingly along the square of turf we dignify by the name of
+lawn.  The head of the house has a most languid and self-conscious strut,
+and his microscopic mind is fixed entirely on his splendid trailing tail.
+If I could only master his language sufficiently to tell him how
+hideously ugly the back view of this gorgeous fan is, when he spreads it
+for the edification of the observer in front of him, he would of course
+retort that there is a "congregation side" to everything, but I should at
+least force him into a defence of his tail and a confession of its
+limitations.  This would be new and unpleasant, I fancy; and if it
+produced no perceptible effect upon his super-arrogant demeanour, I might
+remind him that he is likely to be used, eventually, for a feather
+duster, unless, indeed, the Heavens are superstitious and prefer to throw
+his tail away, rather than bring ill luck and the evil eye into the
+house.
+
+{More pride of bearing, and less to be proud of: p43.jpg}
+
+The longer I study the cock, whether Black Spanish, White Leghorn,
+Dorking, or the common barnyard fowl, the more intimately I am acquainted
+with him, the less I am impressed with his character.  He has more pride
+of bearing, and less to be proud of, than any bird I know.  He is
+indolent, though he struts pompously over the grass as if the day were
+all too short for his onerous duties.  He calls the hens about him when I
+throw corn from the basket, but many a time I have seen him swallow
+hurriedly, and in private, some dainty titbit he has found unexpectedly.
+He has no particular chivalry.  He gives no special encouragement to his
+hen when he becomes a prospective father, and renders little assistance
+when the responsibilities become actualities.  His only personal message
+or contribution to the world is his raucous cock-a-doodle-doo, which,
+being uttered most frequently at dawn, is the most ill-timed and
+offensive of all musical notes.  It is so unnecessary too, as if the day
+didn't come soon enough without his warning; but I suppose he is anxious
+to waken his hens and get them at their daily task, and so he disturbs
+the entire community.  In short, I dislike him; his swagger, his
+autocratic strut, his greed, his irritating self-consciousness, his
+endless parading of himself up and down in a procession of one.
+
+Of course his character is largely the result of polygamy.  His
+weaknesses are only what might be expected; and as for the hens, I have
+considerable respect for the patience, sobriety, and dignity with which
+they endure an institution particularly offensive to all women.  In their
+case they do not even have the sustaining thought of its being an article
+of religion, so they are to be complimented the more.
+
+There is nothing on earth so feminine as a hen--not womanly, simply
+feminine.  Those men of insight who write the Woman's Page in the Sunday
+newspapers study hens more than women, I sometimes think; at any rate,
+their favourite types are all present on this poultry farm.
+
+Some families of White Leghorns spend most of their time in the rickyard,
+where they look extremely pretty, their slender white shapes and red
+combs and wattles well set off by the background of golden hayricks.
+There is a great oak-tree in one corner, with a tall ladder leaning
+against its trunk, and a capital roosting-place on a long branch running
+at right angles with the ladder.  I try to spend a quarter of an hour
+there every night before supper, just for the pleasure of seeing the
+feathered "women-folks" mount that ladder.
+
+A dozen of them surround the foot, waiting restlessly for their turn.  One
+little white lady flutters up on the lowest round and perches there until
+she reviews the past, faces the present, and forecasts the future; during
+which time she is gathering courage for the next jump.  She cackles,
+takes up one foot and then the other, tilts back and forth, holds up her
+skirts and drops them again, cocks her head nervously to see whether they
+are all staring at her below, gives half a dozen preliminary springs
+which mean nothing, declares she can't and won't go up any faster, unties
+her bonnet strings and pushes back her hair, pulls down her dress to
+cover her toes, and finally alights on the next round, swaying to and fro
+until she gains her equilibrium, when she proceeds to enact the same
+scene over again.
+
+All this time the hens at the foot of the ladder are criticising her
+methods and exclaiming at the length of time she requires in mounting;
+while the cocks stroll about the yard keeping one eye on the ladder,
+picking up a seed here and there, and giving a masculine sneer now and
+then at the too-familiar scene.  They approach the party at intervals,
+but only to remark that it always makes a man laugh to see a woman go up
+a ladder.  The next hen, stirred to the depths by this speech, flies up
+entirely too fast, loses her head, tumbles off the top round, and has to
+make the ascent over again.  Thus it goes on and on, this _petite comedie
+humaine_, and I could enjoy it with my whole heart if Mr. Heaven did not
+insist on sharing the spectacle with me.  He is so inexpressibly dull, so
+destitute of humour, that I did not think it likely he would see in the
+performance anything more than a flock of hens going up a ladder to
+roost.  But he did; for there is no man so blind that he cannot see the
+follies of women; and, when he forgot himself so far as to utter a few
+genial, silly, well-worn reflections upon femininity at large, I turned
+upon him and revealed to him some of the characteristics of his own sex,
+gained from an exhaustive study of the barnyard fowl of the masculine
+gender.  He went into the house discomfited, though chuckling a little at
+my vehemence; but at least I have made it for ever impossible for him to
+watch his hens without an occasional glance at the cocks.
+
+{Mr. Heaven discomfited: p46.jpg}
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+July 12th.
+
+O the pathos of a poultry farm!  Catherine of Aragon, the black Spanish
+hen that stole her nest, brought out nine chicks this morning, and the
+business-like and marble-hearted Phoebe has taken them away and given
+them to another hen who has only seven.  Two mothers cannot be wasted on
+these small families--it would not be profitable; and the older mother,
+having been tried and found faithful over seven, has been given the other
+nine and accepted them.  What of the bereft one?  She is miserable and
+stands about moping and forlorn, but it is no use fighting against the
+inevitable; hens' hearts must obey the same laws that govern the rotation
+of crops.  Catherine of Aragon feels her lot a bitter one just now, but
+in time she will succumb, and lay, which is more to the point.
+
+We have had a very busy evening, beginning with the rats' supper--delicate
+sandwiches of bread-and-butter spread with Paris green.
+
+We have a new brood of seventeen ducklings just hatched this afternoon.
+When we came to the nest the yellow and brown bunches of down and fluff
+were peeping out from under the hen's wings in the prettiest fashion in
+the world.
+
+"It's a noble hen!" I said to Phoebe.
+
+"She ain't so nowble as she looks," Phoebe answered grimly.  "It was
+another 'en that brooded these eggs for near on three weeks and then this
+big one come along with a fancy she'd like a family 'erself if she could
+steal one without too much trouble; so she drove the rightful 'en off the
+nest, finished up the last few days, and 'ere she is in possession of the
+ducklings!"
+
+"Why don't you take them away from her and give them back to the first
+hen, who did most of the work?" I asked, with some spirit.
+
+"Like as not she wouldn't tyke them now," said Phoebe, as she lifted the
+hen off the broken egg-shells and moved her gently into a clean box, on a
+bed of fresh hay.  We put food and drink within reach of the family, and
+very proud and handsome that highway robber of a hen looked, as she
+stretched her wings over the seventeen easily-earned ducklings.
+
+Going back to the old nesting-box, I found one egg forgotten among the
+shells.  It was still warm, and I took it up to run across the field with
+it to Phoebe.  It was heavy, and the carrying of it was a queer
+sensation, inasmuch as it squirmed and "yipped" vociferously in transit,
+threatening so unmistakably to hatch in my hand that I was decidedly
+nervous.  The intrepid little youngster burst his shell as he touched
+Phoebe's apron, and has become the strongest and handsomest of the brood.
+
+All this tending of downy young things, this feeding and putting to bed,
+this petting and nursing and rearing, is such pretty, comforting woman's
+work.  I am sure Phoebe will make a better wife to the carrier for having
+been a poultry-maid, and though good enough for most practical purposes
+when I came here, I am an infinitely better woman now.  I am afraid I was
+not particularly nice the last few days at the Hydro.  Such a lot of
+dull, prosy, inquisitive, bothering old tabbies!  Aunt Margaret
+furnishing imaginary symptoms enough to keep a fond husband and two
+trained nurses distracted; a man I had never encouraged in my life coming
+to stay in the neighbourhood and turning up daily for rejection; another
+man taking rooms at the very hotel with the avowed purpose of making my
+life a burden; and on the heels of both, a widow of thirty-five in full
+chase!  Small wonder I thought it more dignified to retire than to
+compete, and so I did.
+
+I need not, however, have cut the threads that bound me to Oxenbridge
+with such particularly sharp scissors, nor given them such a vicious
+snap; for, so far as I can observe, the little world of which I imagined
+myself the sun continues to revolve, and, probably, about some other
+centre.  I can well imagine who has taken up that delightful but somewhat
+exposed and responsible position--it would be just like her!
+
+{Threatened . . . to hatch in my hand: p51.jpg}
+
+I am perfectly happy where I am; it is not that; but it seems so strange
+that they can be perfectly happy without me, after all that they--after
+all that was said on the subject not many days ago.  Nothing turns out as
+one expects.  There have been no hot pursuits, no rewards offered, no
+bills posted, no printed placards issued describing the beauty and charms
+of a young person who supposed herself the cynosure of every eye.  Heigh-
+ho!  What does it matter, after all?  One can always be a Goose Girl!
+
+* * * * *
+
+I wonder if the hen mother is quite, quite satisfied with her ducklings!
+Do you suppose the fact of hatching and brooding them breaks down all the
+sense of difference?  Does she not sometimes reflect that if her children
+were the ordinary sort, and not these changelings, she would be enjoying
+certain pretty little attentions dear to a mother's heart?  The chicks
+would be pecking the food off her broad beak with their tiny ones, and
+jumping on her back to slide down her glossy feathers.  They would be far
+nicer to cuddle, too, so small and graceful and light; the changelings
+are a trifle solid and brawny.  And personally, just as a matter of
+taste, would she not prefer wee, round, glancing heads, and pointed
+beaks, peeping from under her wings, to these teaspoon-shaped things
+larger than her own?  I wonder!
+
+We are training fourteen large young chickens to sit on the perches in
+their new house, instead of huddling together on the floor as has been
+their habit, because we discover rat-holes under the wire flooring
+occasionally, and fear that toes may be bitten.  At nine o'clock Phoebe
+and I lift the chickens one by one, and, as it were, glue them to their
+perches, squawking.  Three nights have we gone patiently through with
+this performance, but they have not learned the lesson.  The ducks and
+geese are, however, greatly improved by the application of advanced
+educational methods, and the _regime_ of perfect order and system
+instituted by Me begins to show results.
+
+{One can always be a Goose Girl: p53.jpg}
+
+There is no more violent splashing and pebbling, racing, chasing,
+separating.  The pole, indeed, still has to be produced, but at the first
+majestic wave of my hand they scuttle toward the shore.  The geese turn
+to the right, cross the rickyard, and go to their pen; the May ducks turn
+to the left for their coops, the June ducks follow the hens to the top
+meadow, and even the idiot gosling has an inspiration now and then and
+stumbles on his own habitation.
+
+{The geese . . . cross the rickyard: p54.jpg}
+
+Mrs. Heaven has no reverence for the principles of Comenius, Pestalozzi,
+or Herbert Spencer as applied to poultry, and when the ducks and geese
+came out of the pond badly the other night and went waddling and tumbling
+and hissing all over creation, did not approve of my sending them back
+into the pond to start afresh.
+
+"I consider it a great waste of time, of good time, miss," she said;
+"and, after all, do you consider that educated poultry will be any better
+eating, or that it will lay more than one egg a day, miss?"
+
+I have given the matter some attention, and I fear Mrs. Heaven is right.
+A duck, a goose, or a hen in which I have developed a larger brain,
+implanted a sense of duty, or instilled an idea of self-government, is
+likely, on the whole, to be leaner, not fatter.  There is nothing like
+obeying the voice of conscience for taking the flesh off one's bones;
+and, speaking of conscience, Phoebe, whose metaphysics are of the farm
+farmy, says that hers "felt like a hunlaid hegg for dyes" after she had
+jilted the postman.
+
+As to the eggs, I am sure the birds will go on laying one a day for 'tis
+their nature to.  Whether the product of the intelligent, conscious,
+logical fowl, will be as rich in quality as that of the uneducated and
+barbaric bird, I cannot say; but it ought at least to be equal to the
+Denmark egg eaten now by all Londoners; and if, perchance, left uneaten,
+it is certain to be a very superior wife and mother.
+
+While we are discussing the subject of educating poultry, I confess that
+the case of Cannibal Ann gives me much anxiety.  Twice in her short
+career has she been under suspicion of eating her own eggs, but Phoebe
+has never succeeded in catching her _in flagrante delicto_.  That eminent
+detective service was reserved for me, and I have been haunted by the
+picture ever since.  It is an awful sight to witness a hen gulp her own
+newly-laid fresh egg, yolk, white, shell, and all; to realise that you
+have fed, sheltered, chased, and occasionally run in, a being possessed
+of no moral sense, a being likely to set a bad example, inculcate vicious
+habits among her innocent sisters, and lower the standard of an entire
+poultry-yard.  _The Young Poultry Keeper's Friend_ gives us no advice on
+this topic, and we do not know whether to treat Cannibal Ann as the
+victim of a disease, or as a confirmed criminal; whether to administer
+remedies or cut her off in the flower of her youth.
+
+{Poor little chap, . . . 'e never was a fyvorite: p56.jpg}
+
+We have had a sad scene to-night.  A chick has been ailing all day, and
+when we shut up the brood we found him dead in a corner.
+
+Phoebe put him on the ground while she busied herself about the coop.  The
+other chicks came out and walked about the dead one again and again,
+eyeing him curiously.
+
+"Poor little chap!" said Phoebe.  "'E's never 'ad a mother!  'E was an
+incubytor chicken, and wherever I took 'im 'e was picked at.  There was
+somethink wrong with 'im; 'e never was a fyvorite!"
+
+I put the fluffy body into a hole in the turf, and strewed a handful of
+grass over him.  "Sad little epitaph!" I thought.  "He never was a
+fyvorite!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+July 13th.
+
+I like to watch the Belgian hares eating their trifolium or pea-pods or
+grass; graceful, gentle things they are, crowding about Mr. Heaven, and
+standing prettily, not greedily, on their hind legs, to reach for the
+clover, their delicate nostrils and whiskers all a-quiver with
+excitement.
+
+As I look out of my window in the dusk I can see one of the mothers
+galloping across the enclosure, the soft white lining of her tail acting
+as a beacon-light to the eight infant hares following her, a quaint
+procession of eight white spots in it glancing line.  In the darkest
+night those baby creatures could follow their mother through grass or
+hedge or thicket, and she would need no warning note to show them where
+to flee in case of danger.  "All you have to do is to follow the white
+night-light that I keep in the lining of my tail," she says, when she is
+giving her first maternal lectures; and it seems a beneficent provision
+of Nature.  To be sure, Mr. Heaven took his gun and went out to shoot
+wild rabbits to-day, and I noted that he marked them by those same self-
+betraying tails, as they scuttled toward their holes or leaped toward the
+protecting cover of the hedge; so it does not appear whether Nature is on
+the side of the farmer or the rabbit . . .
+
+{Mr. Heaven . . . went out to shoot wild rabbits: p59.jpg}
+
+There is as much comedy and as much tragedy in poultry life as anywhere,
+and already I see rifts within lutes.  We have in a cage a French
+gentleman partridge married to a Hungarian lady of defective sight.  He
+paces back and forth in the pen restlessly, anything but content with the
+domestic fireside.  One can see plainly that he is devoted to the
+Boulevards, and that if left to his own inclinations he would never have
+chosen any spouse but a thorough Parisienne.
+
+The Hungarian lady is blind of one eye, from some stray shot, I suppose.
+She is melancholy at all times, and occasionally goes so far as to beat
+her head against the wire netting.  If liberated, Mr. Heaven says that
+her blindness would only expose her to death at the hands of the first
+sportsman, and it always seems to me as if she knows this, and is ever
+trying to decide whether a loveless marriage is any better than the tomb.
+
+Then, again, the great, grey gander is, for some mysterious reason, out
+of favour with the entire family.  He is a noble and amiable bird, by far
+the best all-round character in the flock, for dignity of mien and large-
+minded common-sense.  What is the treatment vouchsafed to this blameless
+husband and father?  One that puts anybody out of sorts with virtue and
+its scant rewards.  To begin with, the others will not allow him to go
+into the pond.  There is an organised cabal against it, and he sits
+solitary on the bank, calm and resigned, but, naturally, a trifle hurt.
+His favourite retreat is a tiny sort of island on the edge of the pool
+under the alders, where with his bent head, and red-rimmed philosophic
+eyes he regards his own breast and dreams of happier days.  When the
+others walk into the country twenty-three of them keep together, and Burd
+Alane (as I have named him from the old ballad) walks by himself.  The
+lack of harmony is so evident here, and the slight so intentional and
+direct, that it almost moves me to tears.  The others walk soberly,
+always in couples, but even Burd Alane's rightful spouse is on the side
+of the majority, and avoids her consort.
+
+{Out of favour with the entire family: p61.jpg}
+
+What is the nature of his offence?  There can be no connubial jealousies,
+I judge, as geese are strictly monogamous, and having chosen a partner of
+their joys and sorrows they cleave to each other until death or some
+other inexorable circumstance does them part.  If they are ever mistaken
+in their choice, and think they might have done better, the world is none
+the wiser.  Burd Alane looks in good condition, but Phoebe thinks he is
+not quite himself, and that some day when he is in greater strength he
+will turn on his foes and rend them, regaining thus his lost prestige,
+for formerly he was king of the flock.
+
+* * * * *
+
+Phoebe has not a vestige of sentiment.  She just asked me if I would have
+a duckling or a gosling for dinner; that there were two quite ready--the
+brown and yellow duckling, that is the last to leave the water at night,
+and the white gosling that never knows his own 'ouse.  Which would I
+'ave, and would I 'ave it with sage and onion?
+
+Now, had I found a duckling on the table at dinner I should have eaten it
+without thinking at all, or with the thought that it had come from
+Barbury Green.  But eat a duckling that I have stoned out of the pond,
+pursued up the bank, chased behind the wire netting, caught, screaming,
+in a corner, and carried struggling to his bed?  Feed upon an idiot
+gosling that I have found in nine different coops on nine successive
+nights--in with the newly-hatched chicks, the half-grown pullets, the
+setting hen, the "invaleed goose," the drake with the gapes, the old
+ducks in the pen?--Eat a gosling that I have caught and put in with his
+brothers and sisters (whom he never recognises) so frequently and
+regularly that I am familiar with every joint in his body?
+
+In the first place, with my own small bump of locality and lack of
+geography, I would never willingly consume a creature who might, by some
+strange process of assimilation, make me worse in this respect; in the
+second place, I should have to be ravenous indeed to sit down
+deliberately and make a meal of an intimate friend, no matter if I had
+not a high opinion of his intelligence.  I should as soon think of eating
+the Square Baby, stuffed with sage and onion and garnished with green
+apple-sauce, as the yellow duckling or the idiot gosling.
+
+Mrs. Heaven has just called me into her sitting-room, ostensibly to ask
+me to order breakfast, but really for the pleasure of conversation.  Why
+she should inquire whether I would relish some gammon of bacon with eggs,
+when she knows that there has not been, is not now, and never will be,
+anything but gammon of bacon with eggs, is more than I can explain.
+
+"Would you like to see my flowers, miss?" she asks, folding her plump
+hands over her white apron.  "They are looking beautiful this morning.  I
+am so fond of potted plants, of plants in pots.  Look at these geraniums!
+Now, I consider that pink one a perfect bloom; yes, a perfect bloom.  This
+is a fine red one, is it not, miss?  Especially fine, don't you think?
+The trouble with the red variety is that they're apt to get "bobby" and
+have to be washed regularly; quite bobby they do get indeed, I assure
+you.  That white one has just gone out of blossom, and it was really
+wonderful.  You could 'ardly have told it from a paper flower, miss, not
+from a white paper flower.  My plants are my children nowadays, since
+Albert Edward is my only care.  I have been the mother of eleven
+children, miss, all of them living, so far as I know; I know nothing to
+the contrary.  I 'ope you are not wearying of this solitary place, miss?
+It will grow upon you, I am sure, as it did upon Mrs. Pollock, with all
+her peculiar fancies, and as it 'as grown upon us.--We formerly had a
+butcher's shop in Buffington, and it was naturally a great
+responsibility.  Mr. Heaven's nerves are not strong, and at last he
+wanted a life of more quietude, more quietude was what he craved.  The
+life of a retail butcher is a most exciting and wearying one.  Nobody
+satisfied with their meat; as if it mattered in a world of change!
+Everybody complaining of too much bone or too little fat; nobody wishing
+tough chops or cutlets, but always seeking after fine joints, when it's
+against reason and nature that all joints should be juicy and all cutlets
+tender; always complaining if livers are not sent with every fowl, always
+asking you to remember the trimmin's, always wanting their beef well
+'ung, and then if you 'ang it a minute too long, it's left on your 'ands!
+I often used to say to Mr. Heaven, yes many's the time I've said it, that
+if people would think more of the great 'ereafter and less about their
+own little stomachs, it would be a deal better for them, yes, a deal
+better, and make it much more comfortable for the butchers!"
+
+{The life . . . is a most exciting and wearying one: p65.jpg}
+
+* * * * *
+
+Burd Alane has had a good quarter of an hour to-day.
+
+{His spouse took a brief promenade with him: p66.jpg}
+
+His spouse took a brief promenade with him.  To be sure, it was during an
+absence of the flock on the other side of the hedge so that the moral
+effect of her spasm of wifely loyalty was quite lost upon them.  I
+strongly suspect that she would not have granted anything but a secret
+interview.  What a petty, weak, ignoble character!  I really don't like
+to think so badly of any fellow-creature as I am forced to think of that
+politic, time-serving, pusillanimous goose.  I believe she laid the egg
+that produced the idiot gosling!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+Here follows the true story of Sir Muscovy Drake, the Lady Blanche, and
+Miss Malardina Crippletoes.
+
+Phoebe's flock consisted at first mostly of Brown Mallards, but a friend
+gave her a sitting of eggs warranted to produce a most beautiful variety
+of white ducks.  They were hatched in due time, but proved hard to raise,
+till at length there was only one survivor, of such uncommon grace and
+beauty that we called her the Lady Blanche.  Presently a neighbour sold
+Phoebe his favourite Muscovy drake, and these two splendid creatures by
+"natural selection" disdained to notice the rest of the flock, but
+forming a close friendship, wandered in the pleasant paths of duckdom
+together, swimming and eating quite apart from the others.
+
+In the brown flock there was one unfortunate, misshapen from the egg,
+quite lame, and with no smoothness of plumage; but on that very account,
+apparently, or because she was too weak to resist them, the others
+treated her cruelly, biting her and pushing her away from the food.
+
+One day it happened that the two ducks--Sir Muscovy and Lady Blanche--had
+come up from the water before the others, and having taken their repast
+were sitting together under the shade of a flowering currant-bush, when
+they chanced to see poor Miss Crippletoes very badly used and crowded
+away from the dish.  Sir Muscovy rose to his feet; a few rapid words
+seemed to pass between him and his mate, and then he fell upon the other
+drake and the heartless minions who had persecuted the helpless one,
+drove them far away out of sight, and, returning, went to the corner
+where the victim was cowering, her face to the wall.  He seemed to
+whisper to her, or in some way to convey to her a sense of protection;
+for after a few moments she tremblingly went with him to the dish, and
+hurriedly ate her dinner while he stood by, repulsing the advances of the
+few brown ducks who remained near and seemed inclined to attack her.
+
+When she had eaten enough Lady Blanche joined them, and they went down
+the hill together to their favourite swimming-place.  After that Miss
+Crippletoes always followed a little behind her protectors, and thus
+shielded and fed she grew stronger and well-feathered, though she was
+always smaller than she should have been and had a lowly manner, keeping
+a few steps in the rear of her superiors and sitting at some distance
+from their noon resting-place.
+
+Phoebe noticed after a while that Lady Blanche was seldom to be seen, and
+Sir Muscovy and Miss Crippletoes often came to their meals without her.
+The would-be mother refused to inhabit the house Phoebe had given her,
+and for a long time the place she had chosen for her sitting could not be
+found.  At length the Square Baby discovered her in a most ideal spot.  A
+large boulder had dropped years ago into the brook that fills our duck-
+pond; dropped and split in halves with the two smooth walls leaning away
+from each other.  A grassy bank towered behind, and on either side of the
+opening, tall bushes made a miniature forest where the romantic mother
+could brood her treasures while her two guardians enjoyed the water close
+by her retreat.
+
+All this happened before my coming to Thornycroft Farm, but it was I who
+named the hero and heroines of the romance when Phoebe had told me all
+the particulars.  Yesterday morning I was sitting by my open window.  It
+was warm, sunny, and still, but in the country sounds travel far, and I
+could hear fowl conversation in various parts of the poultry-yard as well
+as in all the outlying bits of territory occupied by our feathered
+friends.  Hens have only three words and a scream in their language, but
+ducks, having more thoughts to express, converse quite fluently, so
+fluently, in fact, that it reminds me of dinner at the Hydropathic Hotel.
+I fancy I have learned to distinguish seven separate sounds, each varied
+by degrees of intensity, and with upward or downward inflections like the
+Chinese tongue.
+
+In the distance, then, I heard the faint voice of a duck calling as if
+breathless and excited.  While I wondered what was happening, I saw Miss
+Crippletoes struggling up the steep bank above the duck-pond.  It was the
+quickest way from the water to the house, but difficult for the little
+lame webbed feet.  When she reached the level grass sward she sank down a
+moment, exhausted; but when she could speak again she cried out, a sharp
+staccato call, and ran forward.
+
+Instantly she was answered from a distant knoll, where for some reason
+Sir Muscovy loved to retire for meditation.  The cries grew lower and
+softer as the birds approached each other, and they met at the corner
+just under my window.  Instantly they put their two bills together and
+the loud cries changed to confiding murmurs.  Evidently some hurried
+questions and answers passed between them, and then Sir Muscovy waddled
+rapidly by the quickest path, Miss Crippletoes following him at a slower
+pace, and both passed out of sight, using their wings to help their feet
+down the steep declivity.  The next morning, when I wakened early, my
+first thought was to look out, and there on the sunny greensward where
+they were accustomed to be fed, Sir Muscovy, Lady Blanche, and their
+humble maid, Malardina Crippletoes, were scattering their own breakfast
+before the bills of twelve beautiful golden balls of ducklings.  The
+little creatures could never have climbed the bank, but must have started
+from their nest at dawn, coming round by the brook to the level at the
+foot of the garden, and so by slow degrees up to the house.
+
+Judging from what I heard and knew of their habits, I am sure the
+excitement of the previous morning was occasioned by the hatching of the
+eggs, and that Lady Blanche had hastily sent her friend to call Sir
+Muscovy, the family remaining together until they could bring the babies
+with them and display their beauty to Phoebe and me.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+July 14th.
+
+We are not wholly without the pleasures of the town in Barbury Green.
+Once or twice in a summer, late on a Saturday afternoon, a procession of
+red and yellow vans drives into a field near the centre of the village.
+By the time the vans are unpacked all the children in the community are
+surrounding the gate of entrance.  There is rifle-shooting, there is
+fortune-telling, there are games of pitch and toss, and swings, and
+French bagatelle; and, to crown all, a wonderful orchestrion that goes by
+steam.  The water is boiled for the public's tea, and at the same time
+thrilling strains of melody are flung into the air.  There is at present
+only one tune in the orchestrion's repertory, but it is a very good tune;
+though after hearing it three hundred and seven times in a single
+afternoon, it pursues one, sleeping and waking, for the next week.  Phoebe
+and I took the Square Baby and went in to this diversified entertainment.
+There was a small crowd of children at the entrance, but as none of them
+seemed to be provided with pennies, and I felt in a fairy godmother mood,
+I offered them the freedom of the place at my expense.
+
+I never purchased more radiant good-will for less money, but the combined
+effect of the well-boiled tea and the boiling orchestrion produced many
+village nightmares, so the mothers told me at chapel next morning.
+
+* * * * *
+
+I have many friends in Barbury Green, and often have a pleasant chat with
+the draper, and the watchmaker, and the chemist.
+
+{The freedom of the place at my expense: p74.jpg}
+
+The last house on the principal street is rather an ugly one, with
+especially nice window curtains.  As I was taking my daily walk to the
+post-office (an entirely unfruitful expedition thus far, as nobody has
+taken the pains to write to me) I saw a nursemaid coming out of the gate,
+wheeling a baby in a perambulator.  She was going placidly away from the
+Green when, far in the distance, she espied a man walking rapidly toward
+us, a heavy Gladstone bag in one hand.  She gazed fixedly for a moment,
+her eyes brightening and her cheeks flushing with pleasure,--whoever it
+was, it was an unexpected arrival;--then she retraced her steps and,
+running up the garden-path, opened the front door and held an excited
+colloquy with somebody; a slender somebody in a nice print gown and
+neatly-dressed hair, who came to the gate and peeped beyond the hedge
+several times, drawing back between peeps with smiles and heightened
+colour.  She did not run down the road, even when she had satisfied
+herself of the identity of the traveller; perhaps that would not have
+been good form in an English village, for there were houses on the
+opposite side of the way.  She waited until he opened the gate, the
+nursemaid took the bag and looked discreetly into the hedge, then the
+mistress slipped her hand through the traveller's arm and walked up the
+path as if she had nothing else in the world to wish for.  The nurse had
+a part in the joy, for she lifted the baby out of the perambulator and
+showed proudly how much he had grown.
+
+It was a dear little scene, and I, a passer-by, had shared in it and felt
+better for it.  I think their content was no less because part of it had
+enriched my life, for happiness, like mercy, is twice blessed; it blesses
+those who are most intimately associated in it, and it blesses all those
+who see it, hear it, feel it, touch it, or breathe the same atmosphere.  A
+laughing, crowing baby in a house, one cheerful woman singing about her
+work, a boy whistling at the plough, a romance just suspected, with its
+miracle of two hearts melting into one--the wind's always in the west
+when you have any of these wonder-workers in your neighbourhood.
+
+I have talks too, sometimes, with the old parson, who lives in a quaint
+house with "_Parva Domus Magna Quies_" cut into the stone over the
+doorway.  He is not a preaching parson, but a retired one, almost the
+nicest kind, I often think.
+
+He has been married thirty years, he tells me; thirty years, spent in the
+one little house with the bricks painted red and grey alternately, and
+the scarlet holly-hocks growing under the windows.  I am sure they have
+been sweet, true, kind years, and that his heart must be a quiet,
+peaceful place just like his house and garden.
+
+"I was only eleven years old when I fell in love with my wife," he told
+me as we sat on the seat under the lime-tree; he puffing cosily at his
+pipe, I plaiting grasses for a hatband.
+
+{Puffing cosily at his pipe: p77.jpg}
+
+"It was just before Sunday-school.  Her mother had dressed her all in
+white muslin like a fairy, but she had stepped on the edge of a puddle,
+and some of the muddy water had bespattered her frock.  A circle of
+children had surrounded her, and some of the motherly little girls were
+on their knees rubbing at the spots anxiously, while one of them wiped
+away the tears that were running down her pretty cheeks.  I looked!  It
+was fatal!  I did not look again, but I was smitten to the very heart!  I
+did not speak to her for six years, but when I did, it was all right with
+both of us, thank God! and I've been in love with her ever since, when
+she behaves herself!"
+
+That is the way they speak of love in Barbury Green, and oh! how much
+sweeter and more wholesome it is than the language of the town!  Who
+would not be a Goose Girl, "to win the secret of the weed's plain heart"?
+It seems to me that in society we are always gazing at magic-lantern
+shows, but here we rest our tired eyes with looking at the stars.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+{A Hen Conference: p79.jpg}
+
+July 16th.
+
+Phoebe and I have been to a Hen Conference at Buffington.  It was for the
+purpose of raising the standard of the British Hen, and our local
+Countess, who is much interested in poultry, was in the chair.
+
+It was a very learned body, but Phoebe had coached me so well that at the
+noon recess I could talk confidently with the members, discussing the
+various advantages of True and Crossed Minorcas, Feverels, Andalusians,
+Cochin Chinas, Shanghais, and the White Leghorn.  (Phoebe, when she
+pronounces this word, leaves out the "h" and bears down heavily on the
+last syllable, so that it rhymes with begone!)
+
+As I was sitting under the trees waiting for Phoebe to finish some
+shopping in the village, a travelling poultry-dealer came along and
+offered to sell me a silver Wyandotte pullet and cockerel.  This was a
+new breed to me and I asked the price, which proved to be more than I
+should pay for a hat in Bond Street.  I hesitated, thinking meantime what
+a delightful parting gift they would be for Phoebe; I mean if we ever
+should part, which seems more and more unlikely, as I shall never leave
+Thornycroft until somebody comes properly to fetch me; indeed, unless the
+"fetching" is done somewhat speedily I may decline to go under any
+circumstances.  My indecision as to the purchase was finally banished
+when the poultryman asserted that the fowls had clear open centres all
+over, black lacing entirely round the white centres, were free from white
+edging, and each had a cherry-red eye.  This catalogue of charms inflamed
+my imagination, though it gave me no mental picture of a silver Wyandotte
+fowl, and I paid the money while the dealer crammed the chicks, squawking
+into my five-o'clock tea-basket.
+
+{Arguing questions of diet: p81.jpg}
+
+The afternoon session of the conference was most exciting, for we reached
+the subject of imported eggs, an industry that is assuming terrifying
+proportions.  The London hotel egg comes from Denmark, it seems,--I
+should think by sailing vessel, not steamer, but I may be wrong.  After
+we had settled that the British Hen should be protected and encouraged,
+and agreed solemnly to abstain from Danish eggs in any form, and made a
+resolution stating that our loyalty to Queen Alexandra would remain
+undiminished, we argued the subject of hen diet.  There was a great
+difference of opinion here and the discussion was heated; the honorary
+treasurer standing for pulped mangold and flint grit, the chair insisting
+on barley meal and randans, while one eloquent young woman declared, to
+loud cries of "'Ear, 'ear!" that rice pudding and bone chips produce more
+eggs to the square hen than any other sort of food.  Impassioned orators
+arose here and there in the audience demanding recognition for beef
+scraps, charcoal, round corn or buckwheat.  Foods were regarded from
+various standpoints: as general invigorators, growth assisters, and egg
+producers.  A very handsome young farmer carried off final honours, and
+proved to the satisfaction of all the feminine poultry-raisers that green
+young hog bones fresh cut in the Banner Bone Breaker (of which he was the
+agent) possessed a nutritive value not to be expressed in human language.
+
+{The afternoon session was most exciting: p82.jpg}
+
+Phoebe was distinctly nervous when I rose to say a few words on poultry
+breeding, announcing as my topic "Mothers, Stepmothers, Foster-Mothers,
+and Incubators."  Protected by the consciousness that no one in the
+assemblage could possibly know me, I made a distinct success in my maiden
+speech; indeed, I somewhat overshot the mark, for the Countess in the
+chair sent me a note asking me to dine with her that evening.  I
+suppressed the note and took Phoebe away before the proceedings were
+finished, vanishing from the scene of my triumphs like a veiled prophet.
+
+Just as we were passing out the door we paused to hear the report of a
+special committee whose chairman read the following resolutions:--
+
+_Whereas_,--It has pleased the Almighty to remove from our midst our
+greatest Rose Comb Buff Orpington fancier and esteemed friend, Albert
+Edward Sheridain; therefore be it
+
+_Resolved_,--That the next edition of our catalogue contain an
+illustrated memorial page in his honour and
+
+_Resolved_,--That the Rose Comb Buff Orpington Club extend to the
+bereaved family their heartfelt sympathy.
+
+{Not asked to the Conference: p84.jpg}
+
+The handsome young farmer followed us out to our trap, invited us to
+attend the next meeting of the R. C. B. O. Club, of which he was the
+secretary, and asked if I were intending to "show."  I introduced Phoebe
+as the senior partner, and she concealed the fact that we possessed but
+one Buff Orpington, and he was a sad "invaleed" not suitable for
+exhibition.  The farmer's expression as he looked at me was almost lover-
+like, and when he pressed a bit of paper into my hand I was sure it must
+be an offer of marriage.  It was in fact only a circular describing the
+Banner Bone Breaker.  It closed with an appeal to Buff Orpington breeders
+to raise and ever raise the standard, bidding them remember, in the midst
+of a low-minded and sordid civilisation, that the rose comb should be
+small and neat, firmly set on, with good working, a nice spike at the
+back lying well down to head, and never, under any circumstances, never
+sticking up.  This adjuration somewhat alarmed us as Phoebe and I had
+been giving our Buff Orpington cockerel the most drastic remedies for his
+languid and prostrate comb.
+
+{Coming home: p85.jpg}
+
+Coming home we alighted from the trap to gather hogweed for the rabbits.
+I sat by the wayside lazily and let Phoebe gather the appetising weed,
+which grows along the thorniest hedges in close proximity to nettles and
+thistles.
+
+Workmen were trudging along with their luncheon-baskets of woven
+bulrushes slung over their shoulders.  Fields of ripening grain lay on
+either hand, the sun shining on their every shade of green and yellow,
+bronze and orange, while the breeze stirred the bearded barley into a
+rippling golden sea.
+
+Phoebe asked me if the people I had left behind at the Hydropathic were
+my relatives.
+
+"Some of them are of remote consanguinity," I responded evasively, and
+the next question was hushed upon her awe-stricken tongue, as I intended.
+
+"They are obeying my wish to be let alone, there's no doubt of that," I
+was thinking.  "For my part, I like a little more spirit, and a little
+less 'letter'!"
+
+{Workmen were trudging home: p87.jpg}
+
+As the word "letter" flitted through my thoughts, I pulled one from my
+pocket and glanced through it carelessly.  It arrived, somewhat tardily,
+only last night, or I should not have had it with me.  I wore the same
+dress to the post-office yesterday that I wore to the Hen Conference to-
+day, and so it chanced to be still in the pocket.  If it had been
+anything I valued, of course I should have lost or destroyed it by
+mistake; it is only silly, worthless little things like this that keep
+turning up and turning up after one has forgotten their existence.
+
+   "You are a mystery!" [it ran.]  "I can apprehend, but not comprehend
+   you.  I know you in part.  I understand various bits of your nature;
+   but my knowledge is always fragmentary and disconnected, and when I
+   attempt to make a whole of the mosaics I merely get a kaleidoscopic
+   effect.  Do you know those geographical dissected puzzles that they
+   give to children?  You remind me of one of them.
+
+   "I have spent many charming (and dangerous) hours trying to 'put you
+   together'; but I find, when I examine my picture closely, that after
+   all I've made a purple mountain grow out of a green tree; that my
+   river is running up a steep hillside; and that the pretty milkmaid,
+   who should be wandering in the forest, is standing on her head with
+   her pail in the air
+
+   "Do you understand yourself clearly?  Or is it just possible that when
+   you dive to the depths of your own consciousness, you sometimes find
+   the pretty milkmaid standing on her head?  I wonder!" . . .
+
+Ah, well, it is no wonder that he wonders!   So do I, for that matter!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+{Along the highway: p89.jpg}
+
+July 17th.
+
+Thornycroft Farm seems to be the musical centre of the universe.
+
+When I wake very early in the morning I lie in a drowsy sort of dream,
+trying to disentangle, one from the other, the various bird notes,
+trills, coos, croons, chirps, chirrups, and warbles.  Suddenly there
+falls on the air a delicious, liquid, finished song; so pure, so mellow,
+so joyous, that I go to the window and look out at the morning world,
+half awakened, like myself.
+
+There is I know not what charm in a window that does not push up, but
+opens its lattices out into the greenness.  And mine is like a little
+jewelled door, for the sun is shining from behind the chimneys and
+lighting the tiny diamond panes with amber flashes.
+
+A faint delicate haze lies over the meadow, and rising out of it, and
+soaring toward the blue is the lark, flinging out that matchless matin
+song, so rich, so thrilling, so lavish!  As the blithe melody fades away,
+I hear the plaintive ballad-fragments of the robin on a curtsying branch
+near my window; and there is always the liquid pipe of the thrush, who
+must quaff a fairy goblet of dew between his songs, I should think, so
+fresh and eternally young is his note.
+
+There is another beautiful song that I follow whenever I hear it,
+straining my eyes to the treetops, yet never finding a bird that I can
+identify as the singer.  Can it be the--
+
+   "Ousel-cock so black of hue,
+   With orange-tawny bill"?
+
+He is called the poet-laureate of the primrose time, but I don't know
+whether he sings in midsummer, and I have not seen him hereabouts.  I
+must write and ask my dear Man of the North.  The Man of the North, I
+sometimes think, had a Fairy Grandmother who was a robin; and perhaps she
+made a nest of fresh moss and put him in the green wood when he was a wee
+bairnie, so that he waxed wise in bird-lore without knowing it.  At all
+events, describe to him the cock of a head, the glance of an eye, the tip-
+up of a tail, or the sheen of a feather, and he will name you the bird.
+Near-sighted he is, too, the Man of the North, but that is only for
+people.
+
+The Square Baby and I have a new game.
+
+I bought a doll's table and china tea-set in Buffington.  We put it under
+an apple-tree in the side garden, where the scarlet lightning grows so
+tall and the Madonna lilies stand so white against the flaming
+background.  We built a little fence around it, and every afternoon at
+tea-time we sprinkle seeds and crumbs in the dishes, water in the tiny
+cups, drop a cherry in each of the fruit-plates, and have a _the
+chantant_ for the birdies.  We sometimes invite an "invaleed" duckling,
+or one of the baby rabbits, or the peacock, in which case the cards
+read:--
+
+   _Thornycroft Farm_.
+   The pleasure of your company is requested
+   at a
+   _The Chantant_
+   Under the Apple Tree.
+   Music at five.
+
+It is a charming game, as I say, but I'd far rather play it with the Man
+of the North; he is so much younger than the Square Baby, and so much
+more responsive, too.
+
+{The scent of the hay: p92.jpg}
+
+Thornycroft Farm is a sweet place, too, of odours as well as sounds.  The
+scent of the hay is for ever in the nostrils, the hedges are thick with
+wild honeysuckle, so deliciously fragrant, the last of the June roses are
+lingering to do their share, and blackberry blossoms and ripening fruit
+as well.
+
+I have never known a place in which it is so easy to be good.  I have not
+said a word, nor scarcely harboured a thought, that was not lovely and
+virtuous since I entered these gates, and yet there are those who think
+me fantastic, difficult, hard to please, unreasonable!
+
+{The last of June: p93.jpg}
+
+I believe the saints must have lived in the country mostly (I am certain
+they never tried Hydropathic hotels), and why anybody with a black heart
+and natural love of wickedness should not simply buy a poultry farm and
+become an angel, I cannot understand.
+
+{A place in which it is so easy to be good: p94.jpg}
+
+Living with animals is really a very improving and wholesome kind of
+life, to the person who will allow himself to be influenced by their
+sensible and high-minded ideals.  When you come to think about it, man is
+really the only animal that ever makes a fool of himself; the others are
+highly civilised, and never make mistakes.  I am going to mention this
+when I write to somebody, sometime; I mean if I ever do.  To be sure, our
+human life is much more complicated than theirs, and I believe when the
+other animals notice our errors of judgment they make allowances.  The
+bee is as busy as a bee, and the beaver works like a beaver, but there
+their responsibility ends.  The bee doesn't have to go about seeing that
+other bees are not crowded into unsanitary tenements or victimised by the
+sweating system.  When the beaver's day of toil is over he doesn't have
+to discuss the sphere, the rights, or the voting privileges of
+beaveresses; all he has to do is to work like a beaver, and that is
+comparatively simple.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+{Not particularly attracted by the poultry: p96.jpg}
+
+I have been studying _The Young Poultry Keeper's Friend_ of late.  If
+there is anything I dislike and deplore, it is the possession of
+knowledge which I cannot put to practical use.  Having discovered an
+interesting disease called Scaly Leg in the July number, I took the
+magazine out into the poultry-yard and identified the malady on three
+hens and a cock.  Phoebe joined me in the diagnosis and we treated the
+victims with a carbolic lotion and scrubbed them with vaseline.
+
+{Leaned languidly against the netting: p97.jpg}
+
+As Phoebe and I grow wise in medical lore the case of Cannibal Ann
+assumes a different aspect.  As the bibulous man quaffs more and more
+flagons of beer and wine when his daily food is ham, salt fish, and
+cabbage, so does the hen avenge her wrongs of diet and woes of
+environment.  Cannibal Ann, herself, has, so far as we know, been raised
+in a Christian manner and enjoyed all the advantages of modern methods;
+but her maternal parent may have lived in some heathen poultry-yard which
+was asphalted or bricked or flagged, so that she was debarred from
+scratching in Mother Earth and was forced to eat her own shells in self-
+defence.
+
+* * * * *
+
+The Square Baby is not particularly attracted by the poultry as a whole,
+save when it is boiled with bacon or roasted with bread-sauce; but he is
+much interested in the "invaleeds."  Whenever Phoebe and I start for the
+hospital with the tobacco-pills, the tin of paraffin, and the bottle of
+oil, he is very much in evidence.  Perhaps he has a natural leaning
+toward the medical profession; at any rate, when pain and anguish wring
+the brow, he is in close attendance upon the ministering angels.
+
+{Staggered and reeled: p98.jpg}
+
+Now it is necessary for the physician to have practice as well as theory,
+so the Square Baby, being left to himself this afternoon, proceeded to
+perfect himself in some of the healing arts used by country
+practitioners.
+
+{Caught her son red-handed: p99.jpg}
+
+When discovered, he was seated in front of the wire-covered "run"
+attached to a coop occupied by the youngest goslings.  A couple of
+bottles and a box stood by his side, and I should think he had
+administered a cup of sweet oil, a pint of paraffin, and a quarter of a
+pound of tobacco during his clinic.  He had used the remedies
+impartially, sometimes giving the paraffin internally and rubbing the
+patient's head with tobacco or oil, sometimes the reverse.
+
+Several goslings leaned languidly against the netting, or supported
+themselves by the edge of the water-dish, while others staggered and
+reeled about with eyes half closed.
+
+{He was treated summarily and smartly: p100.jpg}
+
+It was Mrs. Heaven who caught her son red-handed, so to speak.  She was
+dressed in her best, and just driving off to Woodmucket to spend a day or
+two with her married daughter, and soothe her nerves with the uproar
+incident to a town of six hundred inhabitants.  She delayed her journey a
+half-hour--long enough, in fact, to change her black silk waist for a
+loose sacque which would give her arms full and comfortable play.  The
+joy and astonishment that greeted the Square Baby on his advent, five
+years ago, was forgotten for the first time in his brief life, and he was
+treated precisely as any ordinary wrongdoer would have been treated under
+the same circumstances, summarily and smartly; the "wepping," as Phoebe
+would say, being Mrs. Heaven's hand.
+
+All but one of the goslings lived, like thousands of others who recover
+in spite of the doctors, but the Square Baby's interest in the healing
+art is now perceptibly lessened.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+July 18th.
+
+The day was Friday; Phoebe's day to go to Buffington with eggs and
+chickens and rabbits; her day to solicit orders for ducklings and
+goslings.  The village cart was ready in the stable; Mr. and Mrs. Heaven
+were in Woodmucket; I was eating my breakfast (which I remember was an
+egg and a rasher) when Phoebe came in, a figure of woe.
+
+The Square Baby was ill, very ill, and would not permit her to leave him
+and go to market.  Would I look at him?  For he must have dowsed 'imself
+as well as the goslings yesterday; anyways he was strong of paraffin and
+tobacco, though he 'ad 'ad a good barth.
+
+I prescribed for Albert Edward, who was as uncomfortable and feverish as
+any little sinner in the county of Sussex, and I then promptly proposed
+going to Buffington in Phoebe's place.
+
+She did not think it at all proper, and said that, notwithstanding my
+cotton gown and sailor hat, I looked quite, quite the lydy, and it would
+never do.
+
+"I cannot get any new orders," said I, "but I can certainly leave the
+rabbits and eggs at the customary places.  I know Argent's Dining
+Parlours, and Songhurst's Tea Rooms, and the Six Bells Inn, as well as
+you do."
+
+{The Six Bells found the last poultry somewhat tough: p103.jpg}
+
+So, donning a pair of Phoebe's large white cotton gloves with open-work
+wrists (than which I always fancy there is no one article that so
+disguises the perfect lydy), I set out upon my travels, upborne by a
+lively sense of amusement that was at least equal to my feeling that I
+was doing Phoebe Heaven a good turn.
+
+Prices in dressed poultry were fluctuating, but I had a copy of _The
+Trade Review_, issued that very day, and was able to get some idea of
+values and the state of the market as I jogged along.  The general
+movement, I learned, was moderate and of a "selective" character.  Choice
+large capons and ducks were in steady demand, but I blushed for my
+profession when I read that roasting chickens were running coarse,
+staggy, and of irregular value.  Old hens were held firmly at sixpence,
+and it is my experience that they always have to be, at whatever price.
+Geese were plenty, dull, and weak.  Old cocks,--why don't they say
+roosters?--declined to threepence ha'penny on Thursday in sympathy with
+fowls,--and who shall say that chivalry is dead?  Turkeys were a trifle
+steadier, and there was a speculative movement in limed eggs.  All this
+was illuminating, and I only wished I were quite certain whether the
+sympathetic old roosters were threepence ha'penny apiece, or a pound.
+
+{The gadabout hen: p105.jpg}
+
+Everything happened as it should, on this first business journey of my
+life, which is equivalent to saying that nothing happened at all.
+Songhurst's Tea Rooms took five dozen eggs and told me to bring six dozen
+the next week.  Argent's Dining Parlours purchased three pairs of
+chickens and four rabbits.  The Six Bells found the last poultry somewhat
+tough and tasteless; whereupon I said that our orders were more than we
+could possibly fill, still I hoped we could go on "selling them," as we
+never liked to part with old customers, no matter how many new ones there
+were.  Privately, I understood the complaint only too well, for I knew
+the fowls in question very intimately.  Two of them were the runaway
+rooster and the gadabout hen that never wanted to go to bed with the
+others.  The third was Cannibal Ann.  I should have expected them to be
+tough, but I cannot believe they were lacking in flavour.
+
+The only troublesome feature of the trip was that Mrs. Sowerbutt's
+lodgers had suddenly left for London and she was unable to take the four
+rabbits as she had hoped; but as an offset to that piece of ill-fortune
+the Coke and Coal Yard and the Bicycle Repairing Rooms came out into the
+street, and, stepping up to the trap, requested regular weekly deliveries
+of eggs and chickens, and hoped that I would be able to bring them
+myself.  And so, in a happy frame of mind, I turned out of the Buffington
+main street, and was jogging along homeward, when a very startling thing
+happened; namely, a whole verse of the Bailiff's Daughter of Islington:--
+
+   "And as she went along the high road,
+   The weather being hot and dry,
+   She sat her down upon a green bank,
+   And her true love came riding by."
+
+That true lovers are given to riding by, in ballads, I know very well,
+but I hardly supposed they did so in real life, especially when every
+precaution had been taken to avert such a catastrophe.  I had told the
+Barbury Green postmistress, on the morning of my arrival, not to give the
+Thornycroft address to anybody whatsoever, but finding, as the days
+passed, that no one was bold enough or sensible enough to ask for it, I
+haughtily withdrew my prohibition.  About this time I began sending
+envelopes, carefully addressed in a feigned hand, to a certain person at
+the Oxenbridge Hydro.  These envelopes contained no word of writing, but
+held, on one day, only a bit of down from a hen's breast, on another, a
+goose-quill, on another, a glossy tail-feather, on another, a grain of
+corn, and so on.  These trifles were regarded by me not as degrading or
+unmaidenly hints and suggestions, but simply as tests of intelligence.
+Could a man receive tokens of this sort and fail to put two and two
+together?  I feel that I might possibly support life with a domineering
+and autocratic husband,--and there is every prospect that I shall be
+called upon to do so,--but not with a stupid one.  Suppose one were
+linked for ever to a man capable of asking,--"Did _you_ send those
+feathers? . . . How was I to guess? . . . How was a fellow to know they
+came from you? . . . What on earth could I suppose they meant? . . . What
+clue did they offer me as to your whereabouts? . . . Am I a Sherlock
+Holmes?"--No, better eternal celibacy than marriage with such a being!
+
+{She was unable to take the four rabbits: p107.jpg}
+
+These were the thoughts that had been coursing through my goose-girl mind
+while I had been selling dressed poultry, but in some way they had not
+prepared me for the appearance of the aforesaid true love.
+
+To see the very person whom one has left civilisation to avoid is always
+more or less surprising, and to make the meeting less likely, Buffington
+is even farther from Oxenbridge than Barbury Green.  The creature was
+well mounted (ominous, when he came to override my caprice!) and he
+looked bigger, and, yes, handsomer, though that doesn't signify, and
+still more determined than when I saw him last; although goodness knows
+that timidity and feebleness of purpose were not in striking evidence on
+that memorable occasion.  I had drawn up under the shade of a tree
+ostensibly to eat some cherries, thinking that if I turned my face away I
+might pass unrecognised.  It was a stupid plan, for if I had whipped up
+the mare and driven on, he of course, would have had to follow, and he
+has too much dignity and self-respect to shriek recriminations into a
+woman's ear from a distance.
+
+{The creature was well mounted: p109.jpg}
+
+He approached with deliberation, reined in his horse, and lifted his hat
+ceremoniously.  He has an extremely shapely head, but I did not show that
+the sight of it melted in the least the ice of my resolve; whereupon we
+talked, not very freely at first,--men are so stiff when they consider
+themselves injured.  However, silence is even more embarrassing than
+conversation, so at length I begin:--
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"It is a lovely day."
+
+_True Love_.--"Yes, but the drought is getting rather oppressive, don't
+you think?"
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"The crops certainly need rain, and the feed is
+becoming scarce."
+
+_True Love_.--"Are you a farmer's wife?"
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"Oh no! that is a promotion to look forward to; I
+am now only a Goose Girl."
+
+_True Love_.--"Indeed!  If I wished to be severe I might remark: that I
+am sure you have found at last your true vocation!"
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"It was certainly through no desire to please
+_you_ that I chose it."
+
+_True Love_.--"I am quite sure of that!  Are you staying in this part?"
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"Oh no!  I live many miles distant, over an
+extremely rough road.  And you?"
+
+_True Love_.--"I am still at the Hydropathic; or at least my luggage is
+there."
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"It must be very pleasant to attract you so long."
+
+_True Love_.--"Not so pleasant as it was."
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"No?  A new proprietor, I suppose."
+
+_True Love_.--"No; same proprietor; but the house is empty."
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_ (yawning purposely).--"That is strange; the hotels
+are usually so full at this season.  Why did so many leave?"
+
+_True Love_.--"As a matter of fact, only one left.  'Full' and 'empty'
+are purely relative terms.  I call a hotel full when it has you in it,
+empty when it hasn't."
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_ (dying to laugh, but concealing her feelings).--"I
+trust my bulk does not make the same impression on the general public!
+Well, I won't detain you longer; good afternoon; I must go home to my
+evening work."
+
+_True Love_.--"I will accompany you."
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"If you are a gentleman you will remain where you
+are."
+
+_True Love_.--"In the road?  Perhaps; but if I am a man I shall follow
+you; they always do, I notice.  What are those foolish bundles in the
+back of that silly cart?"
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"Feed for the pony, please, sir; fish for dinner;
+randans and barley meal for the poultry; and four unsold rabbits.
+Wouldn't you like them?  Only one and sixpence apiece.  Shot at three
+o'clock this morning."
+
+_True Love_.--"Thanks; I don't like mine shot so early."
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"Oh, well! doubtless I shall be able to dispose of
+them on my way home, though times is 'ard!"
+
+_True Love_.--"Do you mean that you will "peddle" them along the road?"
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"You understand me better than usual,--in fact to
+perfection."
+
+He dismounts and strides to the back of the cart, lifts the covers,
+seizes the rabbits, flings some silver contemptuously into the basket,
+and looks about him for a place to bury his bargain.  A small boy
+approaching in the far distance will probably bag the game.
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_ (modestly).--"Thanks for your trade, sir, rather
+ungraciously bestowed, and we 'opes for a continuance of your past
+fyvors."
+
+_True Love_ (leaning on the wheel of the trap).--"Let us stop this
+nonsense.  What did you hope to gain by running away?"
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"Distance and absence."
+
+_True Love_.--"You knew you couldn't prevent my offering myself to you
+sometime or other."
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"Perhaps not; but I could at least defer it,
+couldn't I?"
+
+_True Love_.--"Why postpone the inevitable?"
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"Doubtless I shrank from giving you the pain of a
+refusal."
+
+_True Love_.--"Perhaps; but do you know what I suspect?"
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"I'm not a suspicious person, thank goodness!"
+
+_True Love_.--"That, on the contrary, you are wilfully withholding from
+me the joy of acceptance."
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"If I intended to accept you, why did I run away?"
+
+_True Love_.--"To make yourself more desirable and precious, I suppose."
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_ (with the most confident coquetry).--"Did I
+succeed?"
+
+_True Love_.--"No; you failed utterly."
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_ (secretly piqued).--"Then I am glad I tried it."
+
+_True Love_.--"You couldn't succeed because you were superlatively
+desirable and precious already; but you should never have experimented.
+Don't you know that Love is a high explosive?"
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"Is it?  Then it ought always to be labelled
+'dangerous,' oughtn't it?  But who thought of suggesting matches?  I'm
+sure I didn't!"
+
+_True Love_.--"No such luck; I wish you would."
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"According to your theory, if you apply a match to
+Love it is likely to 'go off.'"
+
+_True Love_.--"I wish you would try it on mine and await the result.  Come
+now, you'll have to marry somebody, sometime."
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"I confess I don't see the necessity."
+
+_True Love_ (morosely).--"You're the sort of woman men won't leave in
+undisturbed spinsterhood; they'll keep on badgering you."
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"Oh, I don't mind the badgering of a number of
+men; it's rather nice.  It's the one badger I find obnoxious."
+
+_True Love_ (impatiently).--"That's just the perversity of things.  I
+could put a stop to the protestations of the many; I should like nothing
+better--but the pertinacity of the one!  Ah, well!  I can't drop that
+without putting an end to my existence."
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_ (politely).--"I shouldn't think of suggesting
+anything so extreme."
+
+_True Love_ (quoting).--"'Mrs. Hauksbee proceeded to take the conceit out
+of Pluffles as you remove the ribs of an umbrella before re-covering.'
+However, you couldn't ask me anything seriously that I wouldn't do, dear
+Mistress Perversity."
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_ (yielding a point).--"I'll put that boldly to the
+proof.  Say you don't love me!"
+
+_True Love_ (seizing his advantage).--"I don't!  It's imbecile and
+besotted devotion!  Tell me, when may I come to take you away?"
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_ (sighing).--"It's like asking me to leave Heaven."
+
+{Phoebe and Gladwish: p115.jpg}
+
+_True Love_.--"I know it; she told me where to find you,--Thornycroft is
+the seventh poultry-farm I've visited,--but you could never leave Heaven,
+you can't be happy without poultry, why that is a wish easily gratified.
+I'll get you a farm to-morrow; no, it's Saturday, and the real estate
+offices close at noon, but on Monday, without fail.  Your ducks and
+geese, always carrying it along with you.  All you would have to do is to
+admit me; Heaven is full of twos.  If you shall swim on a crystal
+lake--Phoebe told me what a genius you have for getting them out of the
+muddy pond; she was sitting beside it when I called, her hand in that of
+a straw-coloured person named Gladwish, and the ground in her vicinity
+completely strewn with votive offerings.  You shall splash your silver
+sea with an ivory wand; your hens shall have suburban cottages, each with
+its garden; their perches shall be of satin-wood and their water dishes
+of mother-of-pearl.  You shall be the Goose Girl and I will be the Swan
+Herd--simply to be near you--for I hate live poultry.  Dost like the
+picture?  It's a little like Claude Melnotte's, I confess.  The fact is I
+am not quite sane; talking with you after a fortnight of the tabbies at
+the Hydro is like quaffing inebriating vodka after Miffin's Food!  May I
+come to-morrow?"
+
+_Bailiffs Daughter_ (hedging).--"I shall be rather busy; the Crossed
+Minorca hen comes off to-morrow."
+
+_True Love_.--"Oh, never mind!  I'll take her off to-night when I escort
+you to the farm; then she'll get a day's advantage."
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"And rob fourteen prospective chicks of a mother;
+nay, lose the chicks themselves?  Never!"
+
+_True Love_.--"So long as you are a Goose Girl, does it make any
+difference whose you are?  Is it any more agreeable to be Mrs. Heaven's
+Goose Girl than mine?"
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"Ah! but in one case the term of service is
+limited; in the other, permanent."
+
+_True Love_.--"But in the one case you are the slave of the employer, in
+the other the employer of the slave.  Why did you run away?"
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"A man's mind is too dull an instrument to measure
+a woman's reason; even my own fails sometimes to deal with all its
+delicate shades; but I think I must have run away chiefly to taste the
+pleasure of being pursued and brought back.  If it is necessary to your
+happiness that you should explore all the Bluebeard chambers of my being,
+I will confess further that it has taken you nearly three weeks to
+accomplish what I supposed you would do in three days!"
+
+_True Love_ (after a well-spent interval).--"To-morrow, then; shall we
+say before breakfast?  All, do!  Why not?  Well, then, immediately after
+breakfast, and I breakfast at seven nowadays, and sometimes earlier.  Do
+take off those ugly cotton gloves, dear; they are five sizes too large
+for you, and so rough and baggy to the touch!"
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DIARY OF A GOOSE GIRL***
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+<h2>
+<a href="#startoftext">The Diary of a Goose Girl, by Kate Douglas Wiggin</a>
+</h2>
+<pre>
+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Diary of a Goose Girl, by Kate Douglas
+Wiggin
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Diary of a Goose Girl
+
+
+Author: Kate Douglas Wiggin
+
+Release Date: April 11, 2005  [eBook #1867]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DIARY OF A GOOSE GIRL***
+</pre>
+<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p>
+<p>Transcribed from the 1902 Gay and Bird edition by David Price, email
+ccx074@coventry.ac.uk</p>
+<h1>THE DIARY OF A GOOSE GIRL</h1>
+<h2>CHAPTER I.</h2>
+<p>THORNYCROFT FARM, near Barbury Green, July 1, 190-.</p>
+<p>In alluding to myself as a Goose Girl, I am using only the most modest
+of my titles; for I am also a poultry-maid, a tender of Belgian hares
+and rabbits, and a shepherdess; but I particularly fancy the r&ocirc;le
+of Goose Girl, because it recalls the German fairy tales of my early
+youth, when I always yearned, but never hoped, to be precisely what
+I now am.</p>
+<p>As I was jolting along these charming Sussex roads the other day,
+a fat buff pony and a tippy cart being my manner of progression, I chanced
+upon the village of Barbury Green.</p>
+<p>One glance was enough for any woman, who, having eyes to see, could
+see with them; but I made assurance doubly sure by driving about a little,
+struggling to conceal my new-born passion from the stable-boy who was
+my escort.&nbsp; Then, it being high noon of a cloudless day, I descended
+from the trap and said to the astonished yokel: &ldquo;You may go back
+to the Hydropathic; I am spending a month or two here.&nbsp; Wait a
+moment&mdash;I&rsquo;ll send a message, please!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I then scribbled a word or two to those having me in custody.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I am very tired of people,&rdquo; the note ran, &ldquo;and
+want to rest myself by living a while with things.&nbsp; Address me
+(if you must) at Barbury Green post-office, or at all events send me
+a box of simple clothing there&mdash;nothing but shirts and skirts,
+please.&nbsp; I cannot forget that I am only twenty miles from Oxenbridge
+(though it might be one hundred and twenty, which is the reason I adore
+it), but I rely upon you to keep an honourable distance yourselves,
+and not to divulge my place of retreat to others, especially to&mdash;you
+know whom!&nbsp; Do not pursue me.&nbsp; I will never be taken alive!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Having cut, thus, the cable that bound me to civilisation, and having
+seen the buff pony and the dazed yokel disappear in a cloud of dust,
+I looked about me with what Stevenson calls a &ldquo;fine, dizzy, muddle-headed
+joy,&rdquo; the joy of a successful rebel or a liberated serf.&nbsp;
+Plenty of money in my purse&mdash;that was unromantic, of course, but
+it simplified matters&mdash;and nine hours of daylight remaining in
+which to find a lodging.</p>
+<p>The village is one of the oldest, and I am sure it must be one of
+the quaintest, in England.&nbsp; It is too small to be printed on the
+map (an honour that has spoiled more than one Arcadia), so pray do not
+look there, but just believe in it, and some day you may be rewarded
+by driving into it by chance, as I did, and feel the same Columbus thrill
+running, like an electric current, through your veins.&nbsp; I withhold
+specific geographical information in order that you may not miss that
+Columbus thrill, which comes too seldom in a world of railroads.</p>
+<p>The Green is in the very centre of Barbury village, and all civic,
+political, family, and social life converges there, just at the public
+duck-pond&mdash;a wee, sleepy lake with a slope of grass-covered stones
+by which the ducks descend for their swim.</p>
+<p>The houses are set about the Green like those in a toy village.&nbsp;
+They are of old brick, with crumpled, up-and-down roofs of deep-toned
+red, and tufts of stonecrop growing from the eaves.&nbsp; Diamond-paned
+windows, half open, admit the sweet summer air; and as for the gardens
+in front, it would seem as if the inhabitants had nothing to do but
+work in them, there is such a riotous profusion of colour and bloom.&nbsp;
+To add to the effect, there are always pots of flowers hanging from
+the trees, blue flax and yellow myrtle; and cages of Java sparrows and
+canaries singing joyously, as well they may in such a paradise.</p>
+<p>The shops are idyllic, too, as if Nature had seized even the man
+of trade and made him subservient to her designs.&nbsp; The general
+draper&rsquo;s, where I fitted myself out for a day or two quite easily,
+is set back in a tangle of poppies and sweet peas, Madonna lilies and
+Canterbury bells.&nbsp; The shop itself has a gay awning, and what do
+you think the draper has suspended from it, just as a picturesque suggestion
+to the passer-by?&nbsp; Suggestion I call it, because I should blush
+to use the word advertisement in describing anything so dainty and decorative.&nbsp;
+Well, then, garlands of shoes, if you please!&nbsp; Baby bootlets of
+bronze; tiny ankle-ties in yellow, blue, and scarlet kid; glossy patent-leather
+pumps shining in the sun, with festoons of slippers at the corners,
+flowery slippers in imitation Berlin wool-work.&nbsp; If you make this
+picture in your mind&rsquo;s-eye, just add a window above the awning,
+and over the fringe of marigolds in the window-box put the draper&rsquo;s
+wife dancing a rosy-cheeked baby.&nbsp; Alas! my words are only black
+and white, I fear, and this picture needs a palette drenched in primary
+colours.</p>
+<p>Along the street, a short distance, is the old watchmaker&rsquo;s.&nbsp;
+Set in the hedge at the gate is a glass case with <i>Multum in Parvo</i>
+painted on the woodwork.&nbsp; Within, a little stand of trinkets revolves
+slowly; as slowly, I imagine, as the current of business in that quiet
+street.&nbsp; The house stands a trifle back and is covered thickly
+with ivy, while over the entrance-door of the shop is a great round
+clock set in a green frame of clustering vine.&nbsp; The hands pointed
+to one when I passed the watchmaker&rsquo;s garden with its thicket
+of fragrant lavender and its murmuring bees; so I went in to the sign
+of the &ldquo;Strong i&rsquo; the Arm&rdquo; for some cold luncheon,
+determining to patronise &ldquo;The Running Footman&rdquo; at the very
+next opportunity.&nbsp; Neither of these inns is starred by Baedeker,
+and this fact adds the last touch of enchantment to the picture.</p>
+<p>The landlady at the &ldquo;Strong i&rsquo; the Arm&rdquo; stabbed
+me in the heart by telling me that there were no apartments to let in
+the village, and that she had no private sitting-room in the inn; but
+she speedily healed the wound by saying that I might be accommodated
+at one of the farm-houses in the vicinity.&nbsp; Did I object to a farm-&rsquo;ouse?&nbsp;
+Then she could cheerfully recommend the Evan&rsquo;s farm, only &rsquo;alf
+a mile away.&nbsp; She &rsquo;ad understood from Miss Phoebe Evan, who
+sold her poultry, that they would take one lady lodger if she didn&rsquo;t
+wish much waiting upon.</p>
+<p>In my present mood I was in search of the strenuous life, and eager
+to wait, rather than to be waited upon; so I walked along the edge of
+the Green, wishing that some mentally unbalanced householder would take
+a sudden fancy to me and ask me to come in and lodge awhile.&nbsp; I
+suppose these families live under their roofs of peach-blow tiles, in
+the midst of their blooming gardens, for a guinea a week or thereabouts;
+yet if they &ldquo;undertook&rdquo; me (to use their own phrase), the
+bill for my humble meals and bed would be at least double that.&nbsp;
+I don&rsquo;t know that I blame them; one should have proper compensation
+for admitting a world-stained lodger into such an Eden.</p>
+<p>When I was searching for rooms a week ago, I chanced upon a pretty
+cottage where the woman had sometimes let apartments.&nbsp; She showed
+me the premises and asked me if I would mind taking my meals in her
+own dining-room, where I could be served privately at certain hours:
+and, since she had but the one sitting-room, would I allow her to go
+on using it occasionally? also, if I had no special preference, would
+I take the second-sized bedroom and leave her in possession of the largest
+one, which permitted her to have the baby&rsquo;s crib by her bedside?&nbsp;
+She thought I should be quite as comfortable, and it was her opinion
+that in making arrangements with lodgers, it was a good plan not to
+&ldquo;bryke up the &rsquo;ome any more than was necessary.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Bryke up the &rsquo;ome!&rdquo;&nbsp; That is seemingly the
+malignant purpose with which I entered Barbury Green.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER II</h2>
+<p>July 4th.</p>
+<p>Enter the family of Thornycroft Farm, of which I am already a member
+in good and regular standing.</p>
+<p>I introduce Mrs. Heaven first, for she is a self-saturated person
+who would never forgive the insult should she receive any lower place.</p>
+<p>She welcomed me with the statement: &ldquo;We do not take lodgers
+here, nor boarders; no lodgers, nor boarders, but we do occasionally
+admit paying guests, those who look as if they would appreciate the
+quietude of the plyce and be willing as you might say to remunerate
+according.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I did not mind at this particular juncture what I was called, so
+long as the epithet was comparatively unobjectionable, so I am a paying
+guest, therefore, and I expect to pay handsomely for the handsome appellation.&nbsp;
+Mrs. Heaven is short and fat; she fills her dress as a pin-cushion fills
+its cover; she wears a cap and apron, and she is so full of platitudes
+that she would have burst had I not appeared as a providential outlet
+for them.&nbsp; Her accent is not of the farm, but of the town, and
+smacks wholly of the marts of trade.&nbsp; She is repetitious, too,
+as well as platitudinous.&nbsp; &ldquo;I &rsquo;ope if there&rsquo;s
+anythink you require you will let us know, let us know,&rdquo; she says
+several times each day; and whenever she enters my sitting-room she
+prefaces her conversation with the remark: &ldquo;I trust you are finding
+it quiet here, miss?&nbsp; It&rsquo;s the quietude of the plyce that
+is its charm, yes, the quietude.&nbsp; And yet&rdquo; (she dribbles
+on) &ldquo;it wears on a body after a while, miss.&nbsp; I often go
+into Woodmucket to visit one of my sons just for the noise, simply for
+the noise, miss, for nothink else in the world but the noise.&nbsp;
+There&rsquo;s nothink like noise for soothing nerves that is worn threadbare
+with the quietude, miss, or at least that&rsquo;s my experience; and
+yet to a strynger the quietude of the plyce is its charm, undoubtedly
+its chief charm; and that is what our paying guests always say, although
+our charges are somewhat higher than other plyces.&nbsp; If there&rsquo;s
+anythink you require, miss, I &rsquo;ope you&rsquo;ll mention it.&nbsp;
+There is not a commodious assortment in Barbury Green, but we can always
+send the pony to Woodmucket in case of urgency.&nbsp; Our paying guest
+last summer was a Mrs. Pollock, and she was by way of having sudden
+fancies.&nbsp; Young and unmarried though you are, miss, I think you
+will tyke my meaning without my speaking plyner?&nbsp; Well, at six
+o&rsquo;clock of a rainy afternoon, she was seized with an unaccountable
+desire for vegetable marrows, and Mr. &rsquo;Eaven put the pony in the
+cart and went to Woodmucket for them, which is a great advantage to
+be so near a town and yet &rsquo;ave the quietude.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Mr. Heaven is merged, like Mr. Jellyby, in the more shining qualities
+of his wife.&nbsp; A line of description is too long for him.&nbsp;
+Indeed, I can think of no single word brief enough, at least in English.&nbsp;
+The Latin &ldquo;nil&rdquo; will do, since no language is rich in words
+of less than three letters.&nbsp; He is nice, kind, bald, timid, thin,
+and so colourless that he can scarcely be discerned save in a strong
+light.&nbsp; When Mrs. Heaven goes out into the orchard in search of
+him, I can hardly help calling from my window, &ldquo;Bear a trifle
+to the right, Mrs. Heaven&mdash;now to the left&mdash;just in front
+of you now&mdash;if you put out your hands you will touch him.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Phoebe, aged seventeen, is the daughter of the house.&nbsp; She is
+virtuous, industrious, conscientious, and singularly destitute of physical
+charm.&nbsp; She is more than plain; she looks as if she had been planned
+without any definite purpose in view, made of the wrong materials, been
+badly put together, and never properly finished off; but &ldquo;plain&rdquo;
+after all is a relative word.&nbsp; Many a plain girl has been married
+for her beauty; and now and then a beauty, falling under a cold eye,
+has been thought plain.</p>
+<p>Phoebe has her compensations, for she is beloved by, and reciprocates
+the passion of, the Woodmancote carrier, Woodmucket being the English
+manner of pronouncing the place of his abode.&nbsp; If he &ldquo;carries&rdquo;
+as energetically for the great public as he fetches for Phoebe, then
+he must be a rising and a prosperous man.&nbsp; He brings her daily,
+wild strawberries, cherries, birds&rsquo; nests, peacock feathers, sea-shells,
+green hazel-nuts, samples of hens&rsquo; food, or bouquets of wilted
+field flowers tied together tightly and held with a large, moist, loving
+hand.&nbsp; He has fine curly hair of sandy hue, which forms an aureole
+on his brow, and a reddish beard, which makes another inverted aureole
+to match, round his chin.&nbsp; One cannot look at him, especially when
+the sun shines through him, without thinking how lovely he would be
+if stuffed and set on wheels, with a little string to drag him about.</p>
+<p>Phoebe confided to me that she was on the eve of loving the postman
+when the carrier came across her horizon.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It doesn&rsquo;t do to be too hysty, does it, miss?&rdquo;
+she asked me as we were weeding the onion bed.&nbsp; &ldquo;I was to
+give the postman his answer on the Monday night, and it was on the Monday
+morning that Mr. Gladwish made his first trip here as carrier.&nbsp;
+I may say I never wyvered from that moment, and no more did he.&nbsp;
+When I think how near I came to promising the postman it gives me a
+turn.&rdquo;&nbsp; (I can understand that, for I once met the man I
+nearly promised years before to marry, and we both experienced such
+a sense of relief at being free instead of bound that we came near falling
+in love for sheer joy.)</p>
+<p>The last and most important member of the household is the Square
+Baby.&nbsp; His name is Albert Edward, and he is really five years old
+and no baby at all; but his appearance on this planet was in the nature
+of a complete surprise to all parties concerned, and he is spoiled accordingly.&nbsp;
+He has a square head and jaw, square shoulders, square hands and feet.&nbsp;
+He is red and white and solid and stolid and slow-witted, as the young
+of his class commonly are, and will make a bulwark of the nation in
+course of time, I should think; for England has to produce a few thousand
+such square babies every year for use in the colonies and in the standing
+army.&nbsp; Albert Edward has already a military gait, and when he has
+acquired a habit of obedience at all comparable with his power of command,
+he will be able to take up the white man&rsquo;s burden with distinguished
+success.&nbsp; Meantime I can never look at him without marvelling how
+the English climate can transmute bacon and eggs, tea and the solid
+household loaf into such radiant roses and lilies as bloom upon his
+cheeks and lips.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER III</h2>
+<p>July 8th.</p>
+<p>Thornycroft is by way of being a small poultry farm.</p>
+<p>In reaching it from Barbury Green, you take the first left-hand road,
+go till you drop, and there you are.</p>
+<p>It reminds me of my &ldquo;grandmother&rsquo;s farm at Older.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+Did you know the song when you were a child?&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p>My grandmother had a very fine farm<br />
+&lsquo;Way down in the fields of Older.<br />
+With a cluck-cluck here,<br />
+And a cluck-cluck there,<br />
+Here and there a cluck-cluck,<br />
+Cluck-cluck here and there,<br />
+Down in the fields at Older.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>It goes on for ever by the simple subterfuge of changing a few words
+in each verse.</p>
+<blockquote><p>My grandmother had a very fine farm<br />
+&lsquo;Way down in the fields of Older.<br />
+With a quack-quack here,<br />
+And a quack-quack there,<br />
+Here and there a quack-quack,<br />
+Quack-quack here and there,<br />
+Down in the fields at Older.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>This is followed by the gobble-gobble, moo-moo, baa-baa, etc., as
+long as the laureate&rsquo;s imagination and the infant&rsquo;s breath
+hold good.&nbsp; The tune is pretty, and I do not know, or did not,
+when I was young, a more fascinating lyric.</p>
+<p>Thornycroft House must have belonged to a country gentleman once
+upon a time, or to more than one; men who built on a bit here and there
+once in a hundred years, until finally we have this charmingly irregular
+and dilapidated whole.&nbsp; You go up three steps into Mrs. Heaven&rsquo;s
+room, down two into mine, while Phoebe&rsquo;s is up in a sort of turret
+with long, narrow lattices opening into the creepers.&nbsp; There are
+crooked little stair-cases, passages that branch off into other passages
+and lead nowhere in particular; I can&rsquo;t think of a better house
+in which to play hide and seek on a wet day.&nbsp; In front, what was
+once, doubtless, a green, is cut up into greens; to wit, a vegetable
+garden, where the onions, turnips, and potatoes grow cosily up to the
+very door-sill; the utilitarian aspect of it all being varied by some
+scarlet-runners and a scattering of poppies on either side of the path.</p>
+<p>The Belgian hares have their habitation in a corner fifty feet distant;
+one large enclosure for poultry lies just outside the sweetbrier hedge;
+the others, with all the houses and coops, are in the meadow at the
+back, where also our tumbler pigeons are kept.</p>
+<p>Phoebe attends to the poultry; it is her department.&nbsp; Mr. Heaven
+has neither the force nor the <i>finesse</i> required, and the gentle
+reader who thinks these qualities unneeded in so humble a calling has
+only to spend a few days at Thornycroft to be convinced.&nbsp; Mrs.
+Heaven would be of use, but she is dressing the Square Baby in the morning
+and putting him to bed at night just at the hours when the feathered
+young things are undergoing the same operation.</p>
+<p>A Goose Girl, like a poet, is sometimes born, sometimes otherwise.&nbsp;
+I am of the born variety.&nbsp; No training was necessary; I put my
+head on my pillow as a complicated product of modern civilisation on
+a Tuesday night, and on a Wednesday morning I awoke as a Goose Girl.</p>
+<p>My destiny slumbered during the day, but at eight o&rsquo;clock I
+heard a terrific squawking in the direction of the duck-ponds, and,
+aimlessly drifting in that direction, I came upon Phoebe trying to induce
+ducks and drakes, geese and ganders, to retire for the night.&nbsp;
+They have to be driven into enclosures behind fences of wire netting,
+fastened into little rat-proof boxes, or shut into separate coops, so
+as to be safe from their natural enemies, the rats and foxes; which,
+obeying, I suppose, the law of supply and demand, abound in this neighbourhood.&nbsp;
+The old ganders are allowed their liberty, being of such age, discretion,
+sagacity, and pugnacity that they can be trusted to fight their own
+battles.</p>
+<p>The intelligence of hens, though modest, is of such an order that
+it prompts them to go to bed at a virtuous hour of their own accord;
+but ducks and geese have to be materially assisted, or I believe they
+would roam till morning.&nbsp; Never did small boy detest and resist
+being carried off to his nursery as these dullards, young and old, detest
+and resist being driven to theirs.&nbsp; Whether they suffer from insomnia,
+or nightmare, or whether they simply prefer the sweet air of liberty
+(and death) to the odour of captivity and the coop, I have no means
+of knowing.</p>
+<p>Phoebe stood by one of the duck-ponds, a long pole in her hand, and
+a helpless expression in that doughlike countenance of hers, where aimless
+contours and features unite to make a kind of facial blur.&nbsp; (What
+does the carrier see in it?)&nbsp; The pole was not long enough to reach
+the ducks, and Phoebe&rsquo;s method lacked spirit and adroitness, so
+that it was natural, perhaps, that they refused to leave the water,
+the evening being warm, with an uncommon fine sunset.</p>
+<p>I saw the situation at once and ran to meet it with a glow of interest
+and anticipation.&nbsp; If there is anything in the world I enjoy, it
+is making somebody do something that he doesn&rsquo;t want to do; and
+if, when victory perches upon my banner, the somebody can be brought
+to say that he ought to have done it without my making him, that adds
+the unforgettable touch to pleasure, though seldom, alas! does it happen.&nbsp;
+Then ensued the delightful and stimulating hour that has now become
+a feature of the day; an hour in which the remembrance of the table-d&rsquo;h&ocirc;te
+dinner at the Hydro, going on at identically the same time, only stirs
+me to a keener joy and gratitude.</p>
+<p>The ducks swim round in circles, hide under the willows, and attempt
+to creep into the rat-holes in the banks, a stupidity so crass that
+it merits instant death, which it somehow always escapes.&nbsp; Then
+they come out in couples and waddle under the wrong fence into the lower
+meadow, fly madly under the tool-house, pitch blindly in with the sitting
+hens, and out again in short order, all the time quacking and squawking,
+honking and hissing like a bewildered orchestra.&nbsp; By dint of splashing
+the water with poles, throwing pebbles, beating the shrubs at the pond&rsquo;s
+edges, &ldquo;shooing&rdquo; frantically with our skirts, crawling beneath
+bars to head them off, and prodding them from under bushes to urge them
+on, we finally get the older ones out of the water and the younger ones
+into some sort of relation to their various retreats; but, owing to
+their lack of geography, hatred of home, and general recalcitrancy,
+they none of them turn up in the right place and have to be sorted out.&nbsp;
+We uncover the top of the little house, or the enclosure as it may be,
+or reach in at the door, and, seizing the struggling victim, drag him
+forth and take him where he should have had the wit to go in the first
+instance.&nbsp; The weak ones get in with the strong and are in danger
+of being trampled; two May goslings that look almost full-grown have
+run into a house with a brood of ducklings a week old.&nbsp; There are
+twenty-seven crowded into one coop, five in another, nineteen in another;
+the gosling with one leg has to come out, and the duckling threatened
+with the gapes; their place is with the &ldquo;invaleeds,&rdquo; as
+Phoebe calls them, but they never learn the location of the hospital,
+nor have the slightest scruple about spreading contagious diseases.</p>
+<p>Finally, when we have separated and sorted exhaustively, an operation
+in which Phoebe shows a delicacy of discrimination and a fearlessness
+of attack amounting to genius, we count the entire number and find several
+missing.&nbsp; Searching for their animate or inanimate bodies, we &ldquo;scoop&rdquo;
+one from under the tool-house, chance upon two more who are being harried
+and pecked by the big geese in the lower meadow, and discover one sailing
+by himself in solitary splendour in the middle of the deserted pond,
+a look of evil triumph in his bead-like eye.&nbsp; Still we lack one
+young duckling, and he at length is found dead by the hedge.&nbsp; A
+rat has evidently seized him and choked him at a single throttle, but
+in such haste that he has not had time to carry away the tiny body.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Poor think!&rdquo; says Phoebe tearfully; &ldquo;it looks
+as if it was &rsquo;it with some kind of a wepping.&nbsp; I don&rsquo;t
+know whatever to do with the rats, they&rsquo;re gettin&rsquo; that
+fearocious!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>Before I was admitted into daily contact with the living goose (my
+previous intercourse with him having been carried on when gravy and
+stuffing obscured his true personality), I thought him a very Dreyfus
+among fowls, a sorely slandered bird, to whom justice had never been
+done; for even the gentle Darwin is hard upon him.&nbsp; My opinion
+is undergoing some slight modifications, but I withhold judgment at
+present, hoping that some of the follies, faults, vagaries, and limitations
+that I observe in Phoebe&rsquo;s geese may be due to Phoebe&rsquo;s
+educational methods, which were, before my advent, those of the darkest
+ages.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2>
+<p>July 9th.</p>
+<p>By the time the ducks and geese are incarcerated for the night, the
+reasonable, sensible, practical-minded hens&mdash;especially those whose
+mentality is increased and whose virtue is heightened by the responsibilities
+of motherhood&mdash;have gone into their own particular rat-proof boxes,
+where they are waiting in a semi-somnolent state to have the wire doors
+closed, the bricks set against them, and the bits of sacking flung over
+the tops to keep out the draught.&nbsp; We have a great many young families,
+both ducklings and chicks, but we have no duck mothers at present.&nbsp;
+The variety of bird which Phoebe seems to have bred during the past
+year may be called the New Duck, with certain radical ideas about woman&rsquo;s
+sphere.&nbsp; What will happen to Thornycroft if we develop a New Hen
+and a New Cow, my imagination fails to conceive.&nbsp; There does not
+seem to be the slightest danger for the moment, however, and our hens
+lay and sit and sit and lay as if laying and sitting were the twin purposes
+of life.</p>
+<p>The nature of the hen seems to broaden with the duties of maternity,
+but I think myself that we presume a little upon her amiability and
+natural motherliness.&nbsp; It is one thing to desire a family of one&rsquo;s
+own, to lay eggs with that idea in view, to sit upon them three long
+weeks and hatch out and bring up a nice brood of chicks.&nbsp; It must
+be quite another to have one&rsquo;s eggs abstracted day by day and
+eaten by a callous public, the nest filled with deceitful substitutes,
+and at the end of a dull and weary period of hatching to bring into
+the world another person&rsquo;s children&mdash;children, too, of the
+wrong size, the wrong kind of bills and feet, and, still more subtle
+grievance, the wrong kind of instincts, leading them to a dangerous
+aquatic career, one which the mother may not enter to guide, guard,
+and teach; one on the brink of which she must ever stand, uttering dryshod
+warnings which are never heeded.&nbsp; They grow used to this strange
+order of things after a bit, it is true, and are less anxious and excited.&nbsp;
+When the duck-brood returns safely again and again from what the hen-mother
+thinks will prove a watery grave, she becomes accustomed to the situation,
+I suppose.&nbsp; I find that at night she stands by the pond for what
+she considers a decent, self-respecting length of time, calling the
+ducklings out of the water; then, if they refuse to come, the mother
+goes off to bed and leaves them to Providence, or Phoebe.</p>
+<p>The brown hen that we have named Cornelia is the best mother, the
+one who waits longest and most patiently for the web-footed Gracchi
+to finish their swim.</p>
+<p>When a chick is taken out of the incubytor (as Phoebe calls it) and
+refused by all the other hens, Cornelia generally accepts it, though
+she had twelve of her own when we began using her as an orphan asylum.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;Wings are made to stretch,&rdquo; she seems to say cheerfully,
+and with a kind glance of her round eye she welcomes the wanderer and
+the outcast.&nbsp; She even tended for a time the offspring of an absent-minded,
+light-headed pheasant who flew over a four-foot wall and left her young
+behind her to starve; it was not a New Pheasant, either; for the most
+conservative and old-fashioned of her tribe occasionally commits domestic
+solecisms of this sort.</p>
+<p>There is no telling when, where, or how the maternal instinct will
+assert itself.&nbsp; Among our Thornycroft cats is a certain Mrs. Greyskin.&nbsp;
+She had not been seen for many days, and Mrs. Heaven concluded that
+she had hidden herself somewhere with a family of kittens; but as the
+supply of that article with us more than equals the demand, we had not
+searched for her with especial zeal.</p>
+<p>The other day Mrs. Greyskin appeared at the dairy door, and when
+she had been fed Phoebe and I followed her stealthily, from a distance.&nbsp;
+She walked slowly about as if her mind were quite free from harassing
+care, and finally approached a deserted cow-house where there was a
+great mound of straw.&nbsp; At this moment she caught sight of us and
+turned in another direction to throw us off the scent.&nbsp; We persevered
+in our intention of going into her probable retreat, and were cautiously
+looking for some sign of life in the haymow, when we heard a soft cackle
+and a ruffling of plumage.&nbsp; Coming closer to the sound we saw a
+black hen brooding a nest, her bright bead eyes turning nervously from
+side to side; and, coaxed out from her protecting wings by youthful
+curiosity, came four kittens, eyes wide open, warm, happy, ready for
+sport!</p>
+<p>The sight was irresistible, and Phoebe ran for Mr. and Mrs. Heaven
+and the Square Baby.&nbsp; Mother Hen was not to be embarrassed or daunted,
+even if her most sacred feelings were regarded in the light of a cheap
+entertainment.&nbsp; She held her ground while one of the kits slid
+up and down her glossy back, and two others, more timid, crept underneath
+her breast, only daring to put out their pink noses!&nbsp; We retired
+then for very shame and met Mrs. Greyskin in the doorway.&nbsp; This
+should have thickened the plot, but there is apparently no rivalry nor
+animosity between the co-mothers.&nbsp; We watch them every day now,
+through a window in the roof.&nbsp; Mother Greyskin visits the kittens
+frequently, lies down beside the home nest, and gives them their dinner.&nbsp;
+While this is going on Mother Blackwing goes modestly away for a bite,
+a sup, and a little exercise, returning to the kittens when the cat
+leaves them.&nbsp; It is pretty to see her settle down over the four,
+fat, furry dumplings, and they seem to know no difference in warmth
+or comfort, whichever mother is brooding them; while, as their eyes
+have been open for a week, it can no longer be called a blind error
+on their part.</p>
+<p>When we have closed all our small hen-nurseries for the night, there
+is still the large house inhabited by the thirty-two full-grown chickens
+which Phoebe calls the broilers.&nbsp; I cannot endure the term, and
+will not use it.&nbsp; &ldquo;Now for the April chicks,&rdquo; I say
+every evening.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you mean the broilers?&rdquo; asks Phoebe.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I mean the big April chicks,&rdquo; say I.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Yes, them are the broilers,&rdquo; says she.</p>
+<p>But is it not disagreeable enough to be a broiler when one&rsquo;s
+time comes, without having the gridiron waved in one&rsquo;s face for
+weeks beforehand?</p>
+<p>The April chicks are all lively and desirous of seeing the world
+as thoroughly as possible before going to roost or broil.&nbsp; As a
+general thing, we find in the large house sixteen young fowls of the
+contemplative, flavourless, resigned-to-the-inevitable variety; three
+more (the same three every night) perch on the roof and are driven down;
+four (always the same four) cling to the edge of the open door, waiting
+to fly off, but not in, when you attempt to close it; nine huddle together
+on a place in the grass about forty feet distant, where a small coop
+formerly stood in the prehistoric ages.&nbsp; This small coop was one
+in which they lodged for a fortnight when they were younger, and when
+those absolutely indelible impressions are formed of which we read in
+educational maxims.&nbsp; It was taken away long since, but the nine
+loyal (or stupid) Casabiancas cling to the sacred spot where its foundations
+rested; they accordingly have to be caught and deposited bodily in the
+house, and this requires strategy, as they note our approach from a
+considerable distance.</p>
+<p>Finally all are housed but two, the little white cock and the black
+pullet, who are still impish and of a wandering mind.&nbsp; Though headed
+off in every direction, they fly into the hedges and hide in the underbrush.&nbsp;
+We beat the hedge on the other side, but with no avail.&nbsp; We dive
+into the thicket of wild roses, sweetbrier, and thistles on our hands
+and knees, coming out with tangled hair, scratched noses, and no hens.&nbsp;
+Then, when all has been done that human ingenuity can suggest, Phoebe
+goes to her late supper and I do sentry-work.&nbsp; I stroll to a safe
+distance, and, sitting on one of the rat-proof boxes, watch the bushes
+with an eagle eye.&nbsp; Five minutes go by, ten, fifteen; and then
+out steps the white cock, stealthily tiptoeing toward the home into
+which he refused to go at our instigation.&nbsp; In a moment out creeps
+the obstinate little beast of a black pullet from the opposite clump.&nbsp;
+The wayward pair meet at their own door, which I have left open a few
+inches.&nbsp; When all is still I walk gently down the field, and, warned
+by previous experiences, approach the house from behind.&nbsp; I draw
+the door to softly and quickly; but not so quickly that the evil-minded
+and suspicious black pullet hasn&rsquo;t time to spring out, with a
+make-believe squawk of fright&mdash;that induces three other blameless
+chickens to fly down from their perches and set the whole flock in a
+flutter.&nbsp; Then I fall from grace and call her a Broiler; and when,
+after some minutes of hot pursuit, I catch her by falling over her in
+the corner by the goose-pen, I address her as a fat, juicy Broiler with
+parsley butter and a bit of bacon.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER V</h2>
+<p>July 10th.</p>
+<p>At ten thirty or so in the morning the cackling begins.&nbsp; I wonder
+exactly what it means!&nbsp; Have the forest-lovers who listen so respectfully
+to, and interpret so exquisitely, the notes of birds&mdash;have none
+of them made psychological investigations of the hen cackle?&nbsp; Can
+it be simple elation?&nbsp; One could believe that of the first few
+eggs, but a hen who has laid two or three hundred can hardly feel the
+same exuberant pride and joy daily.&nbsp; Can it be the excitement incident
+to successful achievement?&nbsp; Hardly, because the task is so extremely
+simple.&nbsp; Eggs are more or less alike; a little larger or smaller,
+a trifle whiter or browner; and almost sure to be quite right as to
+details; that is, the big end never gets confused with the little end,
+they are always ovoid and never spherical, and the yolk is always inside
+of the white.&nbsp; As for a soft-shelled egg, it is so rare an occurrence
+that the fear of laying one could not set the whole race of hens in
+a panic; so there really cannot be any intellectual or emotional agitation
+in producing a thing that might be made by a machine.&nbsp; Can it be
+simply &ldquo;fussiness&rdquo;; since the people who have the least
+to do commonly make the most flutter about doing it?</p>
+<p>Perhaps it is merely conversation.&nbsp; &ldquo;<i>Cut-cut-cut-cut-cut</i>-DAH<i>cut</i>!
+. . . I have finished my strictly fresh egg, have you laid yours?&nbsp;
+Make haste, then, for the cock has found a gap in the wire-fence and
+wants us to wander in the strawberry-bed. . . . Cut-cut-cut-cut-cut-DAH<i>cut</i>
+. . . Every moment is precious, for the Goose Girl will find us, when
+she gathers the strawberries for her luncheon . . . Cut-cut-cut-cut!&nbsp;
+On the way out we can find sweet places to steal nests . . . Cut-cut-cut!
+. . . I am so glad I am not sitting this heavenly morning; it <i>is</i>
+a dull life.</p>
+<p>A Lancashire poultryman drifted into Barbury Green yesterday.&nbsp;
+He is an old acquaintance of Mr. Heaven, and spent the night and part
+of the next day at Thornycroft Farm.&nbsp; He possessed a deal of fowl
+philosophy, and tells many a good hen story, which, like fish stories,
+draw rather largely on the credulity of the audience.&nbsp; We were
+sitting in the rickyard talking comfortably about laying and cackling
+and kindred matters when he took his pipe from his mouth and told us
+the following tale&mdash;not a bad one if you can translate the dialect:&mdash;</p>
+<p>&lsquo;Aw were once towd as, if yo&rsquo; could only get th&rsquo;
+hen&rsquo;s egg away afooar she hed sin it, th&rsquo; hen &lsquo;ud
+think it hed med a mistek an&rsquo; sit deawn ageean an&rsquo; lay another.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;An&rsquo; it seemed to me it were a varra sensible way o&rsquo;
+lukkin&rsquo; at it.&nbsp; Sooa aw set to wark to mek a nest as &rsquo;ud
+tek a rise eawt o&rsquo; th&rsquo; hens.&nbsp; An&rsquo; aw dud it too.&nbsp;
+Aw med a nest wi&rsquo; a fause bottom, th&rsquo; idea bein&rsquo; as
+when a hen hed laid, th&rsquo; egg &rsquo;ud drop through into a box
+underneyth.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Aw felt varra preawd o&rsquo; that nest, too, aw con tell
+yo&rsquo;, an&rsquo; aw remember aw felt quite excited when aw see an
+awd black Minorca, th&rsquo; best layer as aw hed, gooa an&rsquo; settle
+hersel deawn i&rsquo; th&rsquo; nest an&rsquo; get ready for wark.&nbsp;
+Th&rsquo; hen seemed quite comfortable enough, aw were glad to see,
+an&rsquo; geet through th&rsquo; operation beawt ony seemin&rsquo; trouble.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Well, aw darsay yo&rsquo; know heaw a hen carries on as soon
+as it&rsquo;s laid a egg.&nbsp; It starts &ldquo;chuckin&rsquo;&rdquo;
+away like a showman&rsquo;s racket, an&rsquo; after tekkin&rsquo; a
+good Ink at th&rsquo; egg to see whether it&rsquo;s a big &rsquo;un
+or a little &rsquo;un, gooas eawt an&rsquo; tells all t&rsquo;other
+hens abeawt it.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Neaw, this black Minorca, as aw sed, were a owdish bird, an&rsquo;
+maybe knew mooar than aw thowt.&nbsp; Happen it hed laid on a nest wi&rsquo;
+a fause bottom afooar, an&rsquo; were up to th&rsquo; trick, but whether
+or not, aw never see a hen luk mooar disgusted i&rsquo; mi life when
+it lukked i&rsquo; th&rsquo; nest an&rsquo; see as it hed hed all that
+trouble fer nowt.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It woked reawnd th&rsquo; nest as if it couldn&rsquo;t believe
+its own eyes.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But it dudn&rsquo;t do as aw expected.&nbsp; Aw expected as
+it &rsquo;ud sit deawn ageean an&rsquo; lay another.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;But it just gi&rsquo;e one wonderin&rsquo; sooart o&rsquo;
+chuck, an then, after a long stare reawnd th&rsquo; hen-coyt, it woked
+eawt, as mad a hen as aw&rsquo;ve ever sin.&nbsp; Aw fun&rsquo; eawt
+after, what th&rsquo; long stare meant.&nbsp; It were tekkin&rsquo;
+farewell!&nbsp; For if yo&rsquo;ll believe me that hen never laid another
+egg i&rsquo; ony o&rsquo; my nests.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Varra like it laid away in a spot wheear it could hev summat
+to luk at when it hed done wark for th&rsquo; day.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Sooa aw lost mi best layer through mi actin&rsquo;, an&rsquo;
+aw&rsquo;ve never invented owt sen.&rdquo;</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2>
+<p>One learns to be modest by living on a poultry farm, for there are
+constant expositions of the most deplorable vanity among the cocks.&nbsp;
+We have a couple of pea-fowl who certainly are an addition to the landscape,
+as they step mincingly along the square of turf we dignify by the name
+of lawn.&nbsp; The head of the house has a most languid and self-conscious
+strut, and his microscopic mind is fixed entirely on his splendid trailing
+tail.&nbsp; If I could only master his language sufficiently to tell
+him how hideously ugly the back view of this gorgeous fan is, when he
+spreads it for the edification of the observer in front of him, he would
+of course retort that there is a &ldquo;congregation side&rdquo; to
+everything, but I should at least force him into a defence of his tail
+and a confession of its limitations.&nbsp; This would be new and unpleasant,
+I fancy; and if it produced no perceptible effect upon his super-arrogant
+demeanour, I might remind him that he is likely to be used, eventually,
+for a feather duster, unless, indeed, the Heavens are superstitious
+and prefer to throw his tail away, rather than bring ill luck and the
+evil eye into the house.</p>
+<p>The longer I study the cock, whether Black Spanish, White Leghorn,
+Dorking, or the common barnyard fowl, the more intimately I am acquainted
+with him, the less I am impressed with his character.&nbsp; He has more
+pride of bearing, and less to be proud of, than any bird I know.&nbsp;
+He is indolent, though he struts pompously over the grass as if the
+day were all too short for his onerous duties.&nbsp; He calls the hens
+about him when I throw corn from the basket, but many a time I have
+seen him swallow hurriedly, and in private, some dainty titbit he has
+found unexpectedly.&nbsp; He has no particular chivalry.&nbsp; He gives
+no special encouragement to his hen when he becomes a prospective father,
+and renders little assistance when the responsibilities become actualities.&nbsp;
+His only personal message or contribution to the world is his raucous
+cock-a-doodle-doo, which, being uttered most frequently at dawn, is
+the most ill-timed and offensive of all musical notes.&nbsp; It is so
+unnecessary too, as if the day didn&rsquo;t come soon enough without
+his warning; but I suppose he is anxious to waken his hens and get them
+at their daily task, and so he disturbs the entire community.&nbsp;
+In short, I dislike him; his swagger, his autocratic strut, his greed,
+his irritating self-consciousness, his endless parading of himself up
+and down in a procession of one.</p>
+<p>Of course his character is largely the result of polygamy.&nbsp;
+His weaknesses are only what might be expected; and as for the hens,
+I have considerable respect for the patience, sobriety, and dignity
+with which they endure an institution particularly offensive to all
+women.&nbsp; In their case they do not even have the sustaining thought
+of its being an article of religion, so they are to be complimented
+the more.</p>
+<p>There is nothing on earth so feminine as a hen&mdash;not womanly,
+simply feminine.&nbsp; Those men of insight who write the Woman&rsquo;s
+Page in the Sunday newspapers study hens more than women, I sometimes
+think; at any rate, their favourite types are all present on this poultry
+farm.</p>
+<p>Some families of White Leghorns spend most of their time in the rickyard,
+where they look extremely pretty, their slender white shapes and red
+combs and wattles well set off by the background of golden hayricks.&nbsp;
+There is a great oak-tree in one corner, with a tall ladder leaning
+against its trunk, and a capital roosting-place on a long branch running
+at right angles with the ladder.&nbsp; I try to spend a quarter of an
+hour there every night before supper, just for the pleasure of seeing
+the feathered &ldquo;women-folks&rdquo; mount that ladder.</p>
+<p>A dozen of them surround the foot, waiting restlessly for their turn.&nbsp;
+One little white lady flutters up on the lowest round and perches there
+until she reviews the past, faces the present, and forecasts the future;
+during which time she is gathering courage for the next jump.&nbsp;
+She cackles, takes up one foot and then the other, tilts back and forth,
+holds up her skirts and drops them again, cocks her head nervously to
+see whether they are all staring at her below, gives half a dozen preliminary
+springs which mean nothing, declares she can&rsquo;t and won&rsquo;t
+go up any faster, unties her bonnet strings and pushes back her hair,
+pulls down her dress to cover her toes, and finally alights on the next
+round, swaying to and fro until she gains her equilibrium, when she
+proceeds to enact the same scene over again.</p>
+<p>All this time the hens at the foot of the ladder are criticising
+her methods and exclaiming at the length of time she requires in mounting;
+while the cocks stroll about the yard keeping one eye on the ladder,
+picking up a seed here and there, and giving a masculine sneer now and
+then at the too-familiar scene.&nbsp; They approach the party at intervals,
+but only to remark that it always makes a man laugh to see a woman go
+up a ladder.&nbsp; The next hen, stirred to the depths by this speech,
+flies up entirely too fast, loses her head, tumbles off the top round,
+and has to make the ascent over again.&nbsp; Thus it goes on and on,
+this <i>petite com&eacute;die humaine</i>, and I could enjoy it with
+my whole heart if Mr. Heaven did not insist on sharing the spectacle
+with me.&nbsp; He is so inexpressibly dull, so destitute of humour,
+that I did not think it likely he would see in the performance anything
+more than a flock of hens going up a ladder to roost.&nbsp; But he did;
+for there is no man so blind that he cannot see the follies of women;
+and, when he forgot himself so far as to utter a few genial, silly,
+well-worn reflections upon femininity at large, I turned upon him and
+revealed to him some of the characteristics of his own sex, gained from
+an exhaustive study of the barnyard fowl of the masculine gender.&nbsp;
+He went into the house discomfited, though chuckling a little at my
+vehemence; but at least I have made it for ever impossible for him to
+watch his hens without an occasional glance at the cocks.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2>
+<p>July 12th.</p>
+<p>O the pathos of a poultry farm!&nbsp; Catherine of Aragon, the black
+Spanish hen that stole her nest, brought out nine chicks this morning,
+and the business-like and marble-hearted Phoebe has taken them away
+and given them to another hen who has only seven.&nbsp; Two mothers
+cannot be wasted on these small families&mdash;it would not be profitable;
+and the older mother, having been tried and found faithful over seven,
+has been given the other nine and accepted them.&nbsp; What of the bereft
+one?&nbsp; She is miserable and stands about moping and forlorn, but
+it is no use fighting against the inevitable; hens&rsquo; hearts must
+obey the same laws that govern the rotation of crops.&nbsp; Catherine
+of Aragon feels her lot a bitter one just now, but in time she will
+succumb, and lay, which is more to the point.</p>
+<p>We have had a very busy evening, beginning with the rats&rsquo; supper&mdash;delicate
+sandwiches of bread-and-butter spread with Paris green.</p>
+<p>We have a new brood of seventeen ducklings just hatched this afternoon.&nbsp;
+When we came to the nest the yellow and brown bunches of down and fluff
+were peeping out from under the hen&rsquo;s wings in the prettiest fashion
+in the world.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It&rsquo;s a noble hen!&rdquo; I said to Phoebe.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;She ain&rsquo;t so nowble as she looks,&rdquo; Phoebe answered
+grimly.&nbsp; &ldquo;It was another &rsquo;en that brooded these eggs
+for near on three weeks and then this big one come along with a fancy
+she&rsquo;d like a family &rsquo;erself if she could steal one without
+too much trouble; so she drove the rightful &rsquo;en off the nest,
+finished up the last few days, and &rsquo;ere she is in possession of
+the ducklings!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Why don&rsquo;t you take them away from her and give them
+back to the first hen, who did most of the work?&rdquo; I asked, with
+some spirit.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Like as not she wouldn&rsquo;t tyke them now,&rdquo; said
+Phoebe, as she lifted the hen off the broken egg-shells and moved her
+gently into a clean box, on a bed of fresh hay.&nbsp; We put food and
+drink within reach of the family, and very proud and handsome that highway
+robber of a hen looked, as she stretched her wings over the seventeen
+easily-earned ducklings.</p>
+<p>Going back to the old nesting-box, I found one egg forgotten among
+the shells.&nbsp; It was still warm, and I took it up to run across
+the field with it to Phoebe.&nbsp; It was heavy, and the carrying of
+it was a queer sensation, inasmuch as it squirmed and &ldquo;yipped&rdquo;
+vociferously in transit, threatening so unmistakably to hatch in my
+hand that I was decidedly nervous.&nbsp; The intrepid little youngster
+burst his shell as he touched Phoebe&rsquo;s apron, and has become the
+strongest and handsomest of the brood.</p>
+<p>All this tending of downy young things, this feeding and putting
+to bed, this petting and nursing and rearing, is such pretty, comforting
+woman&rsquo;s work.&nbsp; I am sure Phoebe will make a better wife to
+the carrier for having been a poultry-maid, and though good enough for
+most practical purposes when I came here, I am an infinitely better
+woman now.&nbsp; I am afraid I was not particularly nice the last few
+days at the Hydro.&nbsp; Such a lot of dull, prosy, inquisitive, bothering
+old tabbies!&nbsp; Aunt Margaret furnishing imaginary symptoms enough
+to keep a fond husband and two trained nurses distracted; a man I had
+never encouraged in my life coming to stay in the neighbourhood and
+turning up daily for rejection; another man taking rooms at the very
+hotel with the avowed purpose of making my life a burden; and on the
+heels of both, a widow of thirty-five in full chase!&nbsp; Small wonder
+I thought it more dignified to retire than to compete, and so I did.</p>
+<p>I need not, however, have cut the threads that bound me to Oxenbridge
+with such particularly sharp scissors, nor given them such a vicious
+snap; for, so far as I can observe, the little world of which I imagined
+myself the sun continues to revolve, and, probably, about some other
+centre.&nbsp; I can well imagine who has taken up that delightful but
+somewhat exposed and responsible position&mdash;it would be just like
+her!</p>
+<p>I am perfectly happy where I am; it is not that; but it seems so
+strange that they can be perfectly happy without me, after all that
+they&mdash;after all that was said on the subject not many days ago.&nbsp;
+Nothing turns out as one expects.&nbsp; There have been no hot pursuits,
+no rewards offered, no bills posted, no printed placards issued describing
+the beauty and charms of a young person who supposed herself the cynosure
+of every eye.&nbsp; Heigh-ho!&nbsp; What does it matter, after all?&nbsp;
+One can always be a Goose Girl!</p>
+<p>* * *</p>
+<p>I wonder if the hen mother is quite, quite satisfied with her ducklings!&nbsp;
+Do you suppose the fact of hatching and brooding them breaks down all
+the sense of difference?&nbsp; Does she not sometimes reflect that if
+her children were the ordinary sort, and not these changelings, she
+would be enjoying certain pretty little attentions dear to a mother&rsquo;s
+heart?&nbsp; The chicks would be pecking the food off her broad beak
+with their tiny ones, and jumping on her back to slide down her glossy
+feathers.&nbsp; They would be far nicer to cuddle, too, so small and
+graceful and light; the changelings are a trifle solid and brawny.&nbsp;
+And personally, just as a matter of taste, would she not prefer wee,
+round, glancing heads, and pointed beaks, peeping from under her wings,
+to these teaspoon-shaped things larger than her own?&nbsp; I wonder!</p>
+<p>We are training fourteen large young chickens to sit on the perches
+in their new house, instead of huddling together on the floor as has
+been their habit, because we discover rat-holes under the wire flooring
+occasionally, and fear that toes may be bitten.&nbsp; At nine o&rsquo;clock
+Phoebe and I lift the chickens one by one, and, as it were, glue them
+to their perches, squawking.&nbsp; Three nights have we gone patiently
+through with this performance, but they have not learned the lesson.&nbsp;
+The ducks and geese are, however, greatly improved by the application
+of advanced educational methods, and the <i>r&eacute;gime</i> of perfect
+order and system instituted by Me begins to show results.</p>
+<p>There is no more violent splashing and pebbling, racing, chasing,
+separating.&nbsp; The pole, indeed, still has to be produced, but at
+the first majestic wave of my hand they scuttle toward the shore.&nbsp;
+The geese turn to the right, cross the rickyard, and go to their pen;
+the May ducks turn to the left for their coops, the June ducks follow
+the hens to the top meadow, and even the idiot gosling has an inspiration
+now and then and stumbles on his own habitation.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Heaven has no reverence for the principles of Comenius, Pestalozzi,
+or Herbert Spencer as applied to poultry, and when the ducks and geese
+came out of the pond badly the other night and went waddling and tumbling
+and hissing all over creation, did not approve of my sending them back
+into the pond to start afresh.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I consider it a great waste of time, of good time, miss,&rdquo;
+she said; &ldquo;and, after all, do you consider that educated poultry
+will be any better eating, or that it will lay more than one egg a day,
+miss?&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I have given the matter some attention, and I fear Mrs. Heaven is
+right.&nbsp; A duck, a goose, or a hen in which I have developed a larger
+brain, implanted a sense of duty, or instilled an idea of self-government,
+is likely, on the whole, to be leaner, not fatter.&nbsp; There is nothing
+like obeying the voice of conscience for taking the flesh off one&rsquo;s
+bones; and, speaking of conscience, Phoebe, whose metaphysics are of
+the farm farmy, says that hers &ldquo;felt like a hunlaid hegg for dyes&rdquo;
+after she had jilted the postman.</p>
+<p>As to the eggs, I am sure the birds will go on laying one a day for
+&rsquo;tis their nature to.&nbsp; Whether the product of the intelligent,
+conscious, logical fowl, will be as rich in quality as that of the uneducated
+and barbaric bird, I cannot say; but it ought at least to be equal to
+the Denmark egg eaten now by all Londoners; and if, perchance, left
+uneaten, it is certain to be a very superior wife and mother.</p>
+<p>While we are discussing the subject of educating poultry, I confess
+that the case of Cannibal Ann gives me much anxiety.&nbsp; Twice in
+her short career has she been under suspicion of eating her own eggs,
+but Phoebe has never succeeded in catching her <i>in flagrante delicto</i>.&nbsp;
+That eminent detective service was reserved for me, and I have been
+haunted by the picture ever since.&nbsp; It is an awful sight to witness
+a hen gulp her own newly-laid fresh egg, yolk, white, shell, and all;
+to realise that you have fed, sheltered, chased, and occasionally run
+in, a being possessed of no moral sense, a being likely to set a bad
+example, inculcate vicious habits among her innocent sisters, and lower
+the standard of an entire poultry-yard.&nbsp; <i>The Young Poultry Keeper&rsquo;s
+Friend</i> gives us no advice on this topic, and we do not know whether
+to treat Cannibal Ann as the victim of a disease, or as a confirmed
+criminal; whether to administer remedies or cut her off in the flower
+of her youth.</p>
+<p>We have had a sad scene to-night.&nbsp; A chick has been ailing all
+day, and when we shut up the brood we found him dead in a corner.</p>
+<p>Phoebe put him on the ground while she busied herself about the coop.&nbsp;
+The other chicks came out and walked about the dead one again and again,
+eyeing him curiously.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Poor little chap!&rdquo; said Phoebe.&nbsp; &ldquo;&rsquo;E&rsquo;s
+never &rsquo;ad a mother!&nbsp; &rsquo;E was an incubytor chicken, and
+wherever I took &rsquo;im &rsquo;e was picked at.&nbsp; There was somethink
+wrong with &rsquo;im; &rsquo;e never was a fyvorite!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>I put the fluffy body into a hole in the turf, and strewed a handful
+of grass over him.&nbsp; &ldquo;Sad little epitaph!&rdquo; I thought.&nbsp;
+&ldquo;He never was a fyvorite!&rdquo;</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2>
+<p>July 13th.</p>
+<p>I like to watch the Belgian hares eating their trifolium or pea-pods
+or grass; graceful, gentle things they are, crowding about Mr. Heaven,
+and standing prettily, not greedily, on their hind legs, to reach for
+the clover, their delicate nostrils and whiskers all a-quiver with excitement.</p>
+<p>As I look out of my window in the dusk I can see one of the mothers
+galloping across the enclosure, the soft white lining of her tail acting
+as a beacon-light to the eight infant hares following her, a quaint
+procession of eight white spots in it glancing line.&nbsp; In the darkest
+night those baby creatures could follow their mother through grass or
+hedge or thicket, and she would need no warning note to show them where
+to flee in case of danger.&nbsp; &ldquo;All you have to do is to follow
+the white night-light that I keep in the lining of my tail,&rdquo; she
+says, when she is giving her first maternal lectures; and it seems a
+beneficent provision of Nature.&nbsp; To be sure, Mr. Heaven took his
+gun and went out to shoot wild rabbits to-day, and I noted that he marked
+them by those same self-betraying tails, as they scuttled toward their
+holes or leaped toward the protecting cover of the hedge; so it does
+not appear whether Nature is on the side of the farmer or the rabbit
+. . .</p>
+<p>There is as much comedy and as much tragedy in poultry life as anywhere,
+and already I see rifts within lutes.&nbsp; We have in a cage a French
+gentleman partridge married to a Hungarian lady of defective sight.&nbsp;
+He paces back and forth in the pen restlessly, anything but content
+with the domestic fireside.&nbsp; One can see plainly that he is devoted
+to the Boulevards, and that if left to his own inclinations he would
+never have chosen any spouse but a thorough Parisienne.</p>
+<p>The Hungarian lady is blind of one eye, from some stray shot, I suppose.&nbsp;
+She is melancholy at all times, and occasionally goes so far as to beat
+her head against the wire netting.&nbsp; If liberated, Mr. Heaven says
+that her blindness would only expose her to death at the hands of the
+first sportsman, and it always seems to me as if she knows this, and
+is ever trying to decide whether a loveless marriage is any better than
+the tomb.</p>
+<p>Then, again, the great, grey gander is, for some mysterious reason,
+out of favour with the entire family.&nbsp; He is a noble and amiable
+bird, by far the best all-round character in the flock, for dignity
+of mien and large-minded common-sense.&nbsp; What is the treatment vouchsafed
+to this blameless husband and father?&nbsp; One that puts anybody out
+of sorts with virtue and its scant rewards.&nbsp; To begin with, the
+others will not allow him to go into the pond.&nbsp; There is an organised
+cabal against it, and he sits solitary on the bank, calm and resigned,
+but, naturally, a trifle hurt.&nbsp; His favourite retreat is a tiny
+sort of island on the edge of the pool under the alders, where with
+his bent head, and red-rimmed philosophic eyes he regards his own breast
+and dreams of happier days.&nbsp; When the others walk into the country
+twenty-three of them keep together, and Burd Alane (as I have named
+him from the old ballad) walks by himself.&nbsp; The lack of harmony
+is so evident here, and the slight so intentional and direct, that it
+almost moves me to tears.&nbsp; The others walk soberly, always in couples,
+but even Burd Alane&rsquo;s rightful spouse is on the side of the majority,
+and avoids her consort.</p>
+<p>What is the nature of his offence?&nbsp; There can be no connubial
+jealousies, I judge, as geese are strictly monogamous, and having chosen
+a partner of their joys and sorrows they cleave to each other until
+death or some other inexorable circumstance does them part.&nbsp; If
+they are ever mistaken in their choice, and think they might have done
+better, the world is none the wiser.&nbsp; Burd Alane looks in good
+condition, but Phoebe thinks he is not quite himself, and that some
+day when he is in greater strength he will turn on his foes and rend
+them, regaining thus his lost prestige, for formerly he was king of
+the flock.</p>
+<p>* * *</p>
+<p>Phoebe has not a vestige of sentiment.&nbsp; She just asked me if
+I would have a duckling or a gosling for dinner; that there were two
+quite ready&mdash;the brown and yellow duckling, that is the last to
+leave the water at night, and the white gosling that never knows his
+own &rsquo;ouse.&nbsp; Which would I &rsquo;ave, and would I &rsquo;ave
+it with sage and onion?</p>
+<p>Now, had I found a duckling on the table at dinner I should have
+eaten it without thinking at all, or with the thought that it had come
+from Barbury Green.&nbsp; But eat a duckling that I have stoned out
+of the pond, pursued up the bank, chased behind the wire netting, caught,
+screaming, in a corner, and carried struggling to his bed?&nbsp; Feed
+upon an idiot gosling that I have found in nine different coops on nine
+successive nights&mdash;in with the newly-hatched chicks, the half-grown
+pullets, the setting hen, the &ldquo;invaleed goose,&rdquo; the drake
+with the gapes, the old ducks in the pen?&mdash;Eat a gosling that I
+have caught and put in with his brothers and sisters (whom he never
+recognises) so frequently and regularly that I am familiar with every
+joint in his body?</p>
+<p>In the first place, with my own small bump of locality and lack of
+geography, I would never willingly consume a creature who might, by
+some strange process of assimilation, make me worse in this respect;
+in the second place, I should have to be ravenous indeed to sit down
+deliberately and make a meal of an intimate friend, no matter if I had
+not a high opinion of his intelligence.&nbsp; I should as soon think
+of eating the Square Baby, stuffed with sage and onion and garnished
+with green apple-sauce, as the yellow duckling or the idiot gosling.</p>
+<p>Mrs. Heaven has just called me into her sitting-room, ostensibly
+to ask me to order breakfast, but really for the pleasure of conversation.&nbsp;
+Why she should inquire whether I would relish some gammon of bacon with
+eggs, when she knows that there has not been, is not now, and never
+will be, anything but gammon of bacon with eggs, is more than I can
+explain.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Would you like to see my flowers, miss?&rdquo; she asks, folding
+her plump hands over her white apron.&nbsp; &ldquo;They are looking
+beautiful this morning.&nbsp; I am so fond of potted plants, of plants
+in pots.&nbsp; Look at these geraniums!&nbsp; Now, I consider that pink
+one a perfect bloom; yes, a perfect bloom.&nbsp; This is a fine red
+one, is it not, miss?&nbsp; Especially fine, don&rsquo;t you think?&nbsp;
+The trouble with the red variety is that they&rsquo;re apt to get &ldquo;bobby&rdquo;
+and have to be washed regularly; quite bobby they do get indeed, I assure
+you.&nbsp; That white one has just gone out of blossom, and it was really
+wonderful.&nbsp; You could &rsquo;ardly have told it from a paper flower,
+miss, not from a white paper flower.&nbsp; My plants are my children
+nowadays, since Albert Edward is my only care.&nbsp; I have been the
+mother of eleven children, miss, all of them living, so far as I know;
+I know nothing to the contrary.&nbsp; I &rsquo;ope you are not wearying
+of this solitary place, miss?&nbsp; It will grow upon you, I am sure,
+as it did upon Mrs. Pollock, with all her peculiar fancies, and as it
+&rsquo;as grown upon us.&mdash;We formerly had a butcher&rsquo;s shop
+in Buffington, and it was naturally a great responsibility.&nbsp; Mr.
+Heaven&rsquo;s nerves are not strong, and at last he wanted a life of
+more quietude, more quietude was what he craved.&nbsp; The life of a
+retail butcher is a most exciting and wearying one.&nbsp; Nobody satisfied
+with their meat; as if it mattered in a world of change!&nbsp; Everybody
+complaining of too much bone or too little fat; nobody wishing tough
+chops or cutlets, but always seeking after fine joints, when it&rsquo;s
+against reason and nature that all joints should be juicy and all cutlets
+tender; always complaining if livers are not sent with every fowl, always
+asking you to remember the trimmin&rsquo;s, always wanting their beef
+well &rsquo;ung, and then if you &rsquo;ang it a minute too long, it&rsquo;s
+left on your &rsquo;ands!&nbsp; I often used to say to Mr. Heaven, yes
+many&rsquo;s the time I&rsquo;ve said it, that if people would think
+more of the great &rsquo;ereafter and less about their own little stomachs,
+it would be a deal better for them, yes, a deal better, and make it
+much more comfortable for the butchers!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>* * *</p>
+<p>Burd Alane has had a good quarter of an hour to-day.</p>
+<p>His spouse took a brief promenade with him.&nbsp; To be sure, it
+was during an absence of the flock on the other side of the hedge so
+that the moral effect of her spasm of wifely loyalty was quite lost
+upon them.&nbsp; I strongly suspect that she would not have granted
+anything but a secret interview.&nbsp; What a petty, weak, ignoble character!&nbsp;
+I really don&rsquo;t like to think so badly of any fellow-creature as
+I am forced to think of that politic, time-serving, pusillanimous goose.&nbsp;
+I believe she laid the egg that produced the idiot gosling!</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2>
+<p>Here follows the true story of Sir Muscovy Drake, the Lady Blanche,
+and Miss Malardina Crippletoes.</p>
+<p>Phoebe&rsquo;s flock consisted at first mostly of Brown Mallards,
+but a friend gave her a sitting of eggs warranted to produce a most
+beautiful variety of white ducks.&nbsp; They were hatched in due time,
+but proved hard to raise, till at length there was only one survivor,
+of such uncommon grace and beauty that we called her the Lady Blanche.&nbsp;
+Presently a neighbour sold Phoebe his favourite Muscovy drake, and these
+two splendid creatures by &ldquo;natural selection&rdquo; disdained
+to notice the rest of the flock, but forming a close friendship, wandered
+in the pleasant paths of duckdom together, swimming and eating quite
+apart from the others.</p>
+<p>In the brown flock there was one unfortunate, misshapen from the
+egg, quite lame, and with no smoothness of plumage; but on that very
+account, apparently, or because she was too weak to resist them, the
+others treated her cruelly, biting her and pushing her away from the
+food.</p>
+<p>One day it happened that the two ducks&mdash;Sir Muscovy and Lady
+Blanche&mdash;had come up from the water before the others, and having
+taken their repast were sitting together under the shade of a flowering
+currant-bush, when they chanced to see poor Miss Crippletoes very badly
+used and crowded away from the dish.&nbsp; Sir Muscovy rose to his feet;
+a few rapid words seemed to pass between him and his mate, and then
+he fell upon the other drake and the heartless minions who had persecuted
+the helpless one, drove them far away out of sight, and, returning,
+went to the corner where the victim was cowering, her face to the wall.&nbsp;
+He seemed to whisper to her, or in some way to convey to her a sense
+of protection; for after a few moments she tremblingly went with him
+to the dish, and hurriedly ate her dinner while he stood by, repulsing
+the advances of the few brown ducks who remained near and seemed inclined
+to attack her.</p>
+<p>When she had eaten enough Lady Blanche joined them, and they went
+down the hill together to their favourite swimming-place.&nbsp; After
+that Miss Crippletoes always followed a little behind her protectors,
+and thus shielded and fed she grew stronger and well-feathered, though
+she was always smaller than she should have been and had a lowly manner,
+keeping a few steps in the rear of her superiors and sitting at some
+distance from their noon resting-place.</p>
+<p>Phoebe noticed after a while that Lady Blanche was seldom to be seen,
+and Sir Muscovy and Miss Crippletoes often came to their meals without
+her.&nbsp; The would-be mother refused to inhabit the house Phoebe had
+given her, and for a long time the place she had chosen for her sitting
+could not be found.&nbsp; At length the Square Baby discovered her in
+a most ideal spot.&nbsp; A large boulder had dropped years ago into
+the brook that fills our duck-pond; dropped and split in halves with
+the two smooth walls leaning away from each other.&nbsp; A grassy bank
+towered behind, and on either side of the opening, tall bushes made
+a miniature forest where the romantic mother could brood her treasures
+while her two guardians enjoyed the water close by her retreat.</p>
+<p>All this happened before my coming to Thornycroft Farm, but it was
+I who named the hero and heroines of the romance when Phoebe had told
+me all the particulars.&nbsp; Yesterday morning I was sitting by my
+open window.&nbsp; It was warm, sunny, and still, but in the country
+sounds travel far, and I could hear fowl conversation in various parts
+of the poultry-yard as well as in all the outlying bits of territory
+occupied by our feathered friends.&nbsp; Hens have only three words
+and a scream in their language, but ducks, having more thoughts to express,
+converse quite fluently, so fluently, in fact, that it reminds me of
+dinner at the Hydropathic Hotel.&nbsp; I fancy I have learned to distinguish
+seven separate sounds, each varied by degrees of intensity, and with
+upward or downward inflections like the Chinese tongue.</p>
+<p>In the distance, then, I heard the faint voice of a duck calling
+as if breathless and excited.&nbsp; While I wondered what was happening,
+I saw Miss Crippletoes struggling up the steep bank above the duck-pond.&nbsp;
+It was the quickest way from the water to the house, but difficult for
+the little lame webbed feet.&nbsp; When she reached the level grass
+sward she sank down a moment, exhausted; but when she could speak again
+she cried out, a sharp staccato call, and ran forward.</p>
+<p>Instantly she was answered from a distant knoll, where for some reason
+Sir Muscovy loved to retire for meditation.&nbsp; The cries grew lower
+and softer as the birds approached each other, and they met at the corner
+just under my window.&nbsp; Instantly they put their two bills together
+and the loud cries changed to confiding murmurs.&nbsp; Evidently some
+hurried questions and answers passed between them, and then Sir Muscovy
+waddled rapidly by the quickest path, Miss Crippletoes following him
+at a slower pace, and both passed out of sight, using their wings to
+help their feet down the steep declivity.&nbsp; The next morning, when
+I wakened early, my first thought was to look out, and there on the
+sunny greensward where they were accustomed to be fed, Sir Muscovy,
+Lady Blanche, and their humble maid, Malardina Crippletoes, were scattering
+their own breakfast before the bills of twelve beautiful golden balls
+of ducklings.&nbsp; The little creatures could never have climbed the
+bank, but must have started from their nest at dawn, coming round by
+the brook to the level at the foot of the garden, and so by slow degrees
+up to the house.</p>
+<p>Judging from what I heard and knew of their habits, I am sure the
+excitement of the previous morning was occasioned by the hatching of
+the eggs, and that Lady Blanche had hastily sent her friend to call
+Sir Muscovy, the family remaining together until they could bring the
+babies with them and display their beauty to Phoebe and me.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER X</h2>
+<p>July 14th.</p>
+<p>We are not wholly without the pleasures of the town in Barbury Green.&nbsp;
+Once or twice in a summer, late on a Saturday afternoon, a procession
+of red and yellow vans drives into a field near the centre of the village.&nbsp;
+By the time the vans are unpacked all the children in the community
+are surrounding the gate of entrance.&nbsp; There is rifle-shooting,
+there is fortune-telling, there are games of pitch and toss, and swings,
+and French bagatelle; and, to crown all, a wonderful orchestrion that
+goes by steam.&nbsp; The water is boiled for the public&rsquo;s tea,
+and at the same time thrilling strains of melody are flung into the
+air.&nbsp; There is at present only one tune in the orchestrion&rsquo;s
+repertory, but it is a very good tune; though after hearing it three
+hundred and seven times in a single afternoon, it pursues one, sleeping
+and waking, for the next week.&nbsp; Phoebe and I took the Square Baby
+and went in to this diversified entertainment.&nbsp; There was a small
+crowd of children at the entrance, but as none of them seemed to be
+provided with pennies, and I felt in a fairy godmother mood, I offered
+them the freedom of the place at my expense.</p>
+<p>I never purchased more radiant good-will for less money, but the
+combined effect of the well-boiled tea and the boiling orchestrion produced
+many village nightmares, so the mothers told me at chapel next morning.</p>
+<p>* * *</p>
+<p>I have many friends in Barbury Green, and often have a pleasant chat
+with the draper, and the watchmaker, and the chemist.</p>
+<p>The last house on the principal street is rather an ugly one, with
+especially nice window curtains.&nbsp; As I was taking my daily walk
+to the post-office (an entirely unfruitful expedition thus far, as nobody
+has taken the pains to write to me) I saw a nursemaid coming out of
+the gate, wheeling a baby in a perambulator.&nbsp; She was going placidly
+away from the Green when, far in the distance, she espied a man walking
+rapidly toward us, a heavy Gladstone bag in one hand.&nbsp; She gazed
+fixedly for a moment, her eyes brightening and her cheeks flushing with
+pleasure,&mdash;whoever it was, it was an unexpected arrival;&mdash;then
+she retraced her steps and, running up the garden-path, opened the front
+door and held an excited colloquy with somebody; a slender somebody
+in a nice print gown and neatly-dressed hair, who came to the gate and
+peeped beyond the hedge several times, drawing back between peeps with
+smiles and heightened colour.&nbsp; She did not run down the road, even
+when she had satisfied herself of the identity of the traveller; perhaps
+that would not have been good form in an English village, for there
+were houses on the opposite side of the way.&nbsp; She waited until
+he opened the gate, the nursemaid took the bag and looked discreetly
+into the hedge, then the mistress slipped her hand through the traveller&rsquo;s
+arm and walked up the path as if she had nothing else in the world to
+wish for.&nbsp; The nurse had a part in the joy, for she lifted the
+baby out of the perambulator and showed proudly how much he had grown.</p>
+<p>It was a dear little scene, and I, a passer-by, had shared in it
+and felt better for it.&nbsp; I think their content was no less because
+part of it had enriched my life, for happiness, like mercy, is twice
+blessed; it blesses those who are most intimately associated in it,
+and it blesses all those who see it, hear it, feel it, touch it, or
+breathe the same atmosphere.&nbsp; A laughing, crowing baby in a house,
+one cheerful woman singing about her work, a boy whistling at the plough,
+a romance just suspected, with its miracle of two hearts melting into
+one&mdash;the wind&rsquo;s always in the west when you have any of these
+wonder-workers in your neighbourhood.</p>
+<p>I have talks too, sometimes, with the old parson, who lives in a
+quaint house with &ldquo;<i>Parva Domus Magna Quies</i>&rdquo; cut into
+the stone over the doorway.&nbsp; He is not a preaching parson, but
+a retired one, almost the nicest kind, I often think.</p>
+<p>He has been married thirty years, he tells me; thirty years, spent
+in the one little house with the bricks painted red and grey alternately,
+and the scarlet holly-hocks growing under the windows.&nbsp; I am sure
+they have been sweet, true, kind years, and that his heart must be a
+quiet, peaceful place just like his house and garden.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I was only eleven years old when I fell in love with my wife,&rdquo;
+he told me as we sat on the seat under the lime-tree; he puffing cosily
+at his pipe, I plaiting grasses for a hatband.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;It was just before Sunday-school.&nbsp; Her mother had dressed
+her all in white muslin like a fairy, but she had stepped on the edge
+of a puddle, and some of the muddy water had bespattered her frock.&nbsp;
+A circle of children had surrounded her, and some of the motherly little
+girls were on their knees rubbing at the spots anxiously, while one
+of them wiped away the tears that were running down her pretty cheeks.&nbsp;
+I looked!&nbsp; It was fatal!&nbsp; I did not look again, but I was
+smitten to the very heart!&nbsp; I did not speak to her for six years,
+but when I did, it was all right with both of us, thank God! and I&rsquo;ve
+been in love with her ever since, when she behaves herself!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>That is the way they speak of love in Barbury Green, and oh! how
+much sweeter and more wholesome it is than the language of the town!&nbsp;
+Who would not be a Goose Girl, &ldquo;to win the secret of the weed&rsquo;s
+plain heart&rdquo;?&nbsp; It seems to me that in society we are always
+gazing at magic-lantern shows, but here we rest our tired eyes with
+looking at the stars.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2>
+<p>July 16th.</p>
+<p>Phoebe and I have been to a Hen Conference at Buffington.&nbsp; It
+was for the purpose of raising the standard of the British Hen, and
+our local Countess, who is much interested in poultry, was in the chair.</p>
+<p>It was a very learned body, but Phoebe had coached me so well that
+at the noon recess I could talk confidently with the members, discussing
+the various advantages of True and Crossed Minorcas, Feverels, Andalusians,
+Cochin Chinas, Shanghais, and the White Leghorn.&nbsp; (Phoebe, when
+she pronounces this word, leaves out the &ldquo;h&rdquo; and bears down
+heavily on the last syllable, so that it rhymes with begone!)</p>
+<p>As I was sitting under the trees waiting for Phoebe to finish some
+shopping in the village, a travelling poultry-dealer came along and
+offered to sell me a silver Wyandotte pullet and cockerel.&nbsp; This
+was a new breed to me and I asked the price, which proved to be more
+than I should pay for a hat in Bond Street.&nbsp; I hesitated, thinking
+meantime what a delightful parting gift they would be for Phoebe; I
+mean if we ever should part, which seems more and more unlikely, as
+I shall never leave Thornycroft until somebody comes properly to fetch
+me; indeed, unless the &ldquo;fetching&rdquo; is done somewhat speedily
+I may decline to go under any circumstances.&nbsp; My indecision as
+to the purchase was finally banished when the poultryman asserted that
+the fowls had clear open centres all over, black lacing entirely round
+the white centres, were free from white edging, and each had a cherry-red
+eye.&nbsp; This catalogue of charms inflamed my imagination, though
+it gave me no mental picture of a silver Wyandotte fowl, and I paid
+the money while the dealer crammed the chicks, squawking into my five-o&rsquo;clock
+tea-basket.</p>
+<p>The afternoon session of the conference was most exciting, for we
+reached the subject of imported eggs, an industry that is assuming terrifying
+proportions.&nbsp; The London hotel egg comes from Denmark, it seems,&mdash;I
+should think by sailing vessel, not steamer, but I may be wrong.&nbsp;
+After we had settled that the British Hen should be protected and encouraged,
+and agreed solemnly to abstain from Danish eggs in any form, and made
+a resolution stating that our loyalty to Queen Alexandra would remain
+undiminished, we argued the subject of hen diet.&nbsp; There was a great
+difference of opinion here and the discussion was heated; the honorary
+treasurer standing for pulped mangold and flint grit, the chair insisting
+on barley meal and randans, while one eloquent young woman declared,
+to loud cries of &ldquo;&rsquo;Ear, &rsquo;ear!&rdquo; that rice pudding
+and bone chips produce more eggs to the square hen than any other sort
+of food.&nbsp; Impassioned orators arose here and there in the audience
+demanding recognition for beef scraps, charcoal, round corn or buckwheat.&nbsp;
+Foods were regarded from various standpoints: as general invigorators,
+growth assisters, and egg producers.&nbsp; A very handsome young farmer
+carried off final honours, and proved to the satisfaction of all the
+feminine poultry-raisers that green young hog bones fresh cut in the
+Banner Bone Breaker (of which he was the agent) possessed a nutritive
+value not to be expressed in human language.</p>
+<p>Phoebe was distinctly nervous when I rose to say a few words on poultry
+breeding, announcing as my topic &ldquo;Mothers, Stepmothers, Foster-Mothers,
+and Incubators.&rdquo;&nbsp; Protected by the consciousness that no
+one in the assemblage could possibly know me, I made a distinct success
+in my maiden speech; indeed, I somewhat overshot the mark, for the Countess
+in the chair sent me a note asking me to dine with her that evening.&nbsp;
+I suppressed the note and took Phoebe away before the proceedings were
+finished, vanishing from the scene of my triumphs like a veiled prophet.</p>
+<p>Just as we were passing out the door we paused to hear the report
+of a special committee whose chairman read the following resolutions:&mdash;</p>
+<p><i>Whereas</i>,&mdash;It has pleased the Almighty to remove from
+our midst our greatest Rose Comb Buff Orpington fancier and esteemed
+friend, Albert Edward Sheridain; therefore be it</p>
+<p><i>Resolved</i>,&mdash;That the next edition of our catalogue contain
+an illustrated memorial page in his honour and</p>
+<p><i>Resolved</i>,&mdash;That the Rose Comb Buff Orpington Club extend
+to the bereaved family their heartfelt sympathy.</p>
+<p>The handsome young farmer followed us out to our trap, invited us
+to attend the next meeting of the R. C. B. O. Club, of which he was
+the secretary, and asked if I were intending to &ldquo;show.&rdquo;&nbsp;
+I introduced Phoebe as the senior partner, and she concealed the fact
+that we possessed but one Buff Orpington, and he was a sad &ldquo;invaleed&rdquo;
+not suitable for exhibition.&nbsp; The farmer&rsquo;s expression as
+he looked at me was almost lover-like, and when he pressed a bit of
+paper into my hand I was sure it must be an offer of marriage.&nbsp;
+It was in fact only a circular describing the Banner Bone Breaker.&nbsp;
+It closed with an appeal to Buff Orpington breeders to raise and ever
+raise the standard, bidding them remember, in the midst of a low-minded
+and sordid civilisation, that the rose comb should be small and neat,
+firmly set on, with good working, a nice spike at the back lying well
+down to head, and never, under any circumstances, never sticking up.&nbsp;
+This adjuration somewhat alarmed us as Phoebe and I had been giving
+our Buff Orpington cockerel the most drastic remedies for his languid
+and prostrate comb.</p>
+<p>Coming home we alighted from the trap to gather hogweed for the rabbits.&nbsp;
+I sat by the wayside lazily and let Phoebe gather the appetising weed,
+which grows along the thorniest hedges in close proximity to nettles
+and thistles.</p>
+<p>Workmen were trudging along with their luncheon-baskets of woven
+bulrushes slung over their shoulders.&nbsp; Fields of ripening grain
+lay on either hand, the sun shining on their every shade of green and
+yellow, bronze and orange, while the breeze stirred the bearded barley
+into a rippling golden sea.</p>
+<p>Phoebe asked me if the people I had left behind at the Hydropathic
+were my relatives.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Some of them are of remote consanguinity,&rdquo; I responded
+evasively, and the next question was hushed upon her awe-stricken tongue,
+as I intended.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;They are obeying my wish to be let alone, there&rsquo;s no
+doubt of that,&rdquo; I was thinking.&nbsp; &ldquo;For my part, I like
+a little more spirit, and a little less &lsquo;letter&rsquo;!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>As the word &ldquo;letter&rdquo; flitted through my thoughts, I pulled
+one from my pocket and glanced through it carelessly.&nbsp; It arrived,
+somewhat tardily, only last night, or I should not have had it with
+me.&nbsp; I wore the same dress to the post-office yesterday that I
+wore to the Hen Conference to-day, and so it chanced to be still in
+the pocket.&nbsp; If it had been anything I valued, of course I should
+have lost or destroyed it by mistake; it is only silly, worthless little
+things like this that keep turning up and turning up after one has forgotten
+their existence.</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;You are a mystery!&rdquo; [it ran.]&nbsp; &ldquo;I
+can apprehend, but not comprehend you.&nbsp; I know you in part.&nbsp;
+I understand various bits of your nature; but my knowledge is always
+fragmentary and disconnected, and when I attempt to make a whole of
+the mosaics I merely get a kaleidoscopic effect.&nbsp; Do you know those
+geographical dissected puzzles that they give to children?&nbsp; You
+remind me of one of them.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I have spent many charming (and dangerous) hours trying to
+&lsquo;put you together&rsquo;; but I find, when I examine my picture
+closely, that after all I&rsquo;ve made a purple mountain grow out of
+a green tree; that my river is running up a steep hillside; and that
+the pretty milkmaid, who should be wandering in the forest, is standing
+on her head with her pail in the air</p>
+<p>&ldquo;Do you understand yourself clearly?&nbsp; Or is it just possible
+that when you dive to the depths of your own consciousness, you sometimes
+find the pretty milkmaid standing on her head?&nbsp; I wonder!&rdquo;
+. . .</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>Ah, well, it is no wonder that he wonders!&nbsp;&nbsp; So do I, for
+that matter!</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2>
+<p>July 17th.</p>
+<p>Thornycroft Farm seems to be the musical centre of the universe.</p>
+<p>When I wake very early in the morning I lie in a drowsy sort of dream,
+trying to disentangle, one from the other, the various bird notes, trills,
+coos, croons, chirps, chirrups, and warbles.&nbsp; Suddenly there falls
+on the air a delicious, liquid, finished song; so pure, so mellow, so
+joyous, that I go to the window and look out at the morning world, half
+awakened, like myself.</p>
+<p>There is I know not what charm in a window that does not push up,
+but opens its lattices out into the greenness.&nbsp; And mine is like
+a little jewelled door, for the sun is shining from behind the chimneys
+and lighting the tiny diamond panes with amber flashes.</p>
+<p>A faint delicate haze lies over the meadow, and rising out of it,
+and soaring toward the blue is the lark, flinging out that matchless
+matin song, so rich, so thrilling, so lavish!&nbsp; As the blithe melody
+fades away, I hear the plaintive ballad-fragments of the robin on a
+curtsying branch near my window; and there is always the liquid pipe
+of the thrush, who must quaff a fairy goblet of dew between his songs,
+I should think, so fresh and eternally young is his note.</p>
+<p>There is another beautiful song that I follow whenever I hear it,
+straining my eyes to the treetops, yet never finding a bird that I can
+identify as the singer.&nbsp; Can it be the&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;Ousel-cock so black of hue,<br />
+With orange-tawny bill&rdquo;?</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>He is called the poet-laureate of the primrose time, but I don&rsquo;t
+know whether he sings in midsummer, and I have not seen him hereabouts.&nbsp;
+I must write and ask my dear Man of the North.&nbsp; The Man of the
+North, I sometimes think, had a Fairy Grandmother who was a robin; and
+perhaps she made a nest of fresh moss and put him in the green wood
+when he was a wee bairnie, so that he waxed wise in bird-lore without
+knowing it.&nbsp; At all events, describe to him the cock of a head,
+the glance of an eye, the tip-up of a tail, or the sheen of a feather,
+and he will name you the bird.&nbsp; Near-sighted he is, too, the Man
+of the North, but that is only for people.</p>
+<p>The Square Baby and I have a new game.</p>
+<p>I bought a doll&rsquo;s table and china tea-set in Buffington.&nbsp;
+We put it under an apple-tree in the side garden, where the scarlet
+lightning grows so tall and the Madonna lilies stand so white against
+the flaming background.&nbsp; We built a little fence around it, and
+every afternoon at tea-time we sprinkle seeds and crumbs in the dishes,
+water in the tiny cups, drop a cherry in each of the fruit-plates, and
+have a <i>th&eacute; chantant</i> for the birdies.&nbsp; We sometimes
+invite an &ldquo;invaleed&rdquo; duckling, or one of the baby rabbits,
+or the peacock, in which case the cards read:&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p>Thornycroft Farm.<br />
+The pleasure of your company is requested<br />
+at a<br />
+Th&eacute; Chantant<br />
+Under the Apple Tree.<br />
+Music at five.</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>It is a charming game, as I say, but I&rsquo;d far rather play it
+with the Man of the North; he is so much younger than the Square Baby,
+and so much more responsive, too.</p>
+<p>Thornycroft Farm is a sweet place, too, of odours as well as sounds.&nbsp;
+The scent of the hay is for ever in the nostrils, the hedges are thick
+with wild honeysuckle, so deliciously fragrant, the last of the June
+roses are lingering to do their share, and blackberry blossoms and ripening
+fruit as well.</p>
+<p>I have never known a place in which it is so easy to be good.&nbsp;
+I have not said a word, nor scarcely harboured a thought, that was not
+lovely and virtuous since I entered these gates, and yet there are those
+who think me fantastic, difficult, hard to please, unreasonable!</p>
+<p>I believe the saints must have lived in the country mostly (I am
+certain they never tried Hydropathic hotels), and why anybody with a
+black heart and natural love of wickedness should not simply buy a poultry
+farm and become an angel, I cannot understand.</p>
+<p>Living with animals is really a very improving and wholesome kind
+of life, to the person who will allow himself to be influenced by their
+sensible and high-minded ideals.&nbsp; When you come to think about
+it, man is really the only animal that ever makes a fool of himself;
+the others are highly civilised, and never make mistakes.&nbsp; I am
+going to mention this when I write to somebody, sometime; I mean if
+I ever do.&nbsp; To be sure, our human life is much more complicated
+than theirs, and I believe when the other animals notice our errors
+of judgment they make allowances.&nbsp; The bee is as busy as a bee,
+and the beaver works like a beaver, but there their responsibility ends.&nbsp;
+The bee doesn&rsquo;t have to go about seeing that other bees are not
+crowded into unsanitary tenements or victimised by the sweating system.&nbsp;
+When the beaver&rsquo;s day of toil is over he doesn&rsquo;t have to
+discuss the sphere, the rights, or the voting privileges of beaveresses;
+all he has to do is to work like a beaver, and that is comparatively
+simple.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2>
+<p>I have been studying <i>The Young Poultry Keeper&rsquo;s Friend</i>
+of late.&nbsp; If there is anything I dislike and deplore, it is the
+possession of knowledge which I cannot put to practical use.&nbsp; Having
+discovered an interesting disease called Scaly Leg in the July number,
+I took the magazine out into the poultry-yard and identified the malady
+on three hens and a cock.&nbsp; Phoebe joined me in the diagnosis and
+we treated the victims with a carbolic lotion and scrubbed them with
+vaseline.</p>
+<p>As Phoebe and I grow wise in medical lore the case of Cannibal Ann
+assumes a different aspect.&nbsp; As the bibulous man quaffs more and
+more flagons of beer and wine when his daily food is ham, salt fish,
+and cabbage, so does the hen avenge her wrongs of diet and woes of environment.&nbsp;
+Cannibal Ann, herself, has, so far as we know, been raised in a Christian
+manner and enjoyed all the advantages of modern methods; but her maternal
+parent may have lived in some heathen poultry-yard which was asphalted
+or bricked or flagged, so that she was debarred from scratching in Mother
+Earth and was forced to eat her own shells in self-defence.</p>
+<p>* * *</p>
+<p>The Square Baby is not particularly attracted by the poultry as a
+whole, save when it is boiled with bacon or roasted with bread-sauce;
+but he is much interested in the &ldquo;invaleeds.&rdquo;&nbsp; Whenever
+Phoebe and I start for the hospital with the tobacco-pills, the tin
+of paraffin, and the bottle of oil, he is very much in evidence.&nbsp;
+Perhaps he has a natural leaning toward the medical profession; at any
+rate, when pain and anguish wring the brow, he is in close attendance
+upon the ministering angels.</p>
+<p>Now it is necessary for the physician to have practice as well as
+theory, so the Square Baby, being left to himself this afternoon, proceeded
+to perfect himself in some of the healing arts used by country practitioners.</p>
+<p>When discovered, he was seated in front of the wire-covered &ldquo;run&rdquo;
+attached to a coop occupied by the youngest goslings.&nbsp; A couple
+of bottles and a box stood by his side, and I should think he had administered
+a cup of sweet oil, a pint of paraffin, and a quarter of a pound of
+tobacco during his clinic.&nbsp; He had used the remedies impartially,
+sometimes giving the paraffin internally and rubbing the patient&rsquo;s
+head with tobacco or oil, sometimes the reverse.</p>
+<p>Several goslings leaned languidly against the netting, or supported
+themselves by the edge of the water-dish, while others staggered and
+reeled about with eyes half closed.</p>
+<p>It was Mrs. Heaven who caught her son red-handed, so to speak.&nbsp;
+She was dressed in her best, and just driving off to Woodmucket to spend
+a day or two with her married daughter, and soothe her nerves with the
+uproar incident to a town of six hundred inhabitants.&nbsp; She delayed
+her journey a half-hour&mdash;long enough, in fact, to change her black
+silk waist for a loose sacque which would give her arms full and comfortable
+play.&nbsp; The joy and astonishment that greeted the Square Baby on
+his advent, five years ago, was forgotten for the first time in his
+brief life, and he was treated precisely as any ordinary wrongdoer would
+have been treated under the same circumstances, summarily and smartly;
+the &ldquo;wepping,&rdquo; as Phoebe would say, being Mrs. Heaven&rsquo;s
+hand.</p>
+<p>All but one of the goslings lived, like thousands of others who recover
+in spite of the doctors, but the Square Baby&rsquo;s interest in the
+healing art is now perceptibly lessened.</p>
+<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2>
+<p>July 18th.</p>
+<p>The day was Friday; Phoebe&rsquo;s day to go to Buffington with eggs
+and chickens and rabbits; her day to solicit orders for ducklings and
+goslings.&nbsp; The village cart was ready in the stable; Mr. and Mrs.
+Heaven were in Woodmucket; I was eating my breakfast (which I remember
+was an egg and a rasher) when Phoebe came in, a figure of woe.</p>
+<p>The Square Baby was ill, very ill, and would not permit her to leave
+him and go to market.&nbsp; Would I look at him?&nbsp; For he must have
+dowsed &rsquo;imself as well as the goslings yesterday; anyways he was
+strong of paraffin and tobacco, though he &rsquo;ad &rsquo;ad a good
+barth.</p>
+<p>I prescribed for Albert Edward, who was as uncomfortable and feverish
+as any little sinner in the county of Sussex, and I then promptly proposed
+going to Buffington in Phoebe&rsquo;s place.</p>
+<p>She did not think it at all proper, and said that, notwithstanding
+my cotton gown and sailor hat, I looked quite, quite the lydy, and it
+would never do.</p>
+<p>&ldquo;I cannot get any new orders,&rdquo; said I, &ldquo;but I can
+certainly leave the rabbits and eggs at the customary places.&nbsp;
+I know Argent&rsquo;s Dining Parlours, and Songhurst&rsquo;s Tea Rooms,
+and the Six Bells Inn, as well as you do.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>So, donning a pair of Phoebe&rsquo;s large white cotton gloves with
+open-work wrists (than which I always fancy there is no one article
+that so disguises the perfect lydy), I set out upon my travels, upborne
+by a lively sense of amusement that was at least equal to my feeling
+that I was doing Phoebe Heaven a good turn.</p>
+<p>Prices in dressed poultry were fluctuating, but I had a copy of <i>The
+Trade Review</i>, issued that very day, and was able to get some idea
+of values and the state of the market as I jogged along.&nbsp; The general
+movement, I learned, was moderate and of a &ldquo;selective&rdquo; character.&nbsp;
+Choice large capons and ducks were in steady demand, but I blushed for
+my profession when I read that roasting chickens were running coarse,
+staggy, and of irregular value.&nbsp; Old hens were held firmly at sixpence,
+and it is my experience that they always have to be, at whatever price.&nbsp;
+Geese were plenty, dull, and weak.&nbsp; Old cocks,&mdash;why don&rsquo;t
+they say roosters?&mdash;declined to threepence ha&rsquo;penny on Thursday
+in sympathy with fowls,&mdash;and who shall say that chivalry is dead?&nbsp;
+Turkeys were a trifle steadier, and there was a speculative movement
+in limed eggs.&nbsp; All this was illuminating, and I only wished I
+were quite certain whether the sympathetic old roosters were threepence
+ha&rsquo;penny apiece, or a pound.</p>
+<p>Everything happened as it should, on this first business journey
+of my life, which is equivalent to saying that nothing happened at all.&nbsp;
+Songhurst&rsquo;s Tea Rooms took five dozen eggs and told me to bring
+six dozen the next week.&nbsp; Argent&rsquo;s Dining Parlours purchased
+three pairs of chickens and four rabbits.&nbsp; The Six Bells found
+the last poultry somewhat tough and tasteless; whereupon I said that
+our orders were more than we could possibly fill, still I hoped we could
+go on &ldquo;selling them,&rdquo; as we never liked to part with old
+customers, no matter how many new ones there were.&nbsp; Privately,
+I understood the complaint only too well, for I knew the fowls in question
+very intimately.&nbsp; Two of them were the runaway rooster and the
+gadabout hen that never wanted to go to bed with the others.&nbsp; The
+third was Cannibal Ann.&nbsp; I should have expected them to be tough,
+but I cannot believe they were lacking in flavour.</p>
+<p>The only troublesome feature of the trip was that Mrs. Sowerbutt&rsquo;s
+lodgers had suddenly left for London and she was unable to take the
+four rabbits as she had hoped; but as an offset to that piece of ill-fortune
+the Coke and Coal Yard and the Bicycle Repairing Rooms came out into
+the street, and, stepping up to the trap, requested regular weekly deliveries
+of eggs and chickens, and hoped that I would be able to bring them myself.&nbsp;
+And so, in a happy frame of mind, I turned out of the Buffington main
+street, and was jogging along homeward, when a very startling thing
+happened; namely, a whole verse of the Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter of Islington:&mdash;</p>
+<blockquote><p>&ldquo;And as she went along the high road,<br />
+The weather being hot and dry,<br />
+She sat her down upon a green bank,<br />
+And her true love came riding by.&rdquo;</p>
+</blockquote>
+<p>That true lovers are given to riding by, in ballads, I know very
+well, but I hardly supposed they did so in real life, especially when
+every precaution had been taken to avert such a catastrophe.&nbsp; I
+had told the Barbury Green postmistress, on the morning of my arrival,
+not to give the Thornycroft address to anybody whatsoever, but finding,
+as the days passed, that no one was bold enough or sensible enough to
+ask for it, I haughtily withdrew my prohibition.&nbsp; About this time
+I began sending envelopes, carefully addressed in a feigned hand, to
+a certain person at the Oxenbridge Hydro.&nbsp; These envelopes contained
+no word of writing, but held, on one day, only a bit of down from a
+hen&rsquo;s breast, on another, a goose-quill, on another, a glossy
+tail-feather, on another, a grain of corn, and so on.&nbsp; These trifles
+were regarded by me not as degrading or unmaidenly hints and suggestions,
+but simply as tests of intelligence.&nbsp; Could a man receive tokens
+of this sort and fail to put two and two together?&nbsp; I feel that
+I might possibly support life with a domineering and autocratic husband,&mdash;and
+there is every prospect that I shall be called upon to do so,&mdash;but
+not with a stupid one.&nbsp; Suppose one were linked for ever to a man
+capable of asking,&mdash;&ldquo;Did <i>you</i> send those feathers?
+. . . How was I to guess? . . . How was a fellow to know they came from
+you? . . . What on earth could I suppose they meant? . . . What clue
+did they offer me as to your whereabouts? . . . Am I a Sherlock Holmes?&rdquo;&mdash;No,
+better eternal celibacy than marriage with such a being!</p>
+<p>These were the thoughts that had been coursing through my goose-girl
+mind while I had been selling dressed poultry, but in some way they
+had not prepared me for the appearance of the aforesaid true love.</p>
+<p>To see the very person whom one has left civilisation to avoid is
+always more or less surprising, and to make the meeting less likely,
+Buffington is even farther from Oxenbridge than Barbury Green.&nbsp;
+The creature was well mounted (ominous, when he came to override my
+caprice!) and he looked bigger, and, yes, handsomer, though that doesn&rsquo;t
+signify, and still more determined than when I saw him last; although
+goodness knows that timidity and feebleness of purpose were not in striking
+evidence on that memorable occasion.&nbsp; I had drawn up under the
+shade of a tree ostensibly to eat some cherries, thinking that if I
+turned my face away I might pass unrecognised.&nbsp; It was a stupid
+plan, for if I had whipped up the mare and driven on, he of course,
+would have had to follow, and he has too much dignity and self-respect
+to shriek recriminations into a woman&rsquo;s ear from a distance.</p>
+<p>He approached with deliberation, reined in his horse, and lifted
+his hat ceremoniously.&nbsp; He has an extremely shapely head, but I
+did not show that the sight of it melted in the least the ice of my
+resolve; whereupon we talked, not very freely at first,&mdash;men are
+so stiff when they consider themselves injured.&nbsp; However, silence
+is even more embarrassing than conversation, so at length I begin:&mdash;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;It is a lovely day.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Yes, but the drought is getting rather
+oppressive, don&rsquo;t you think?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;The crops certainly
+need rain, and the feed is becoming scarce.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Are you a farmer&rsquo;s wife?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Oh no! that is a promotion
+to look forward to; I am now only a Goose Girl.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Indeed!&nbsp; If I wished to be severe
+I might remark: that I am sure you have found at last your true vocation!&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;It was certainly through
+no desire to please <i>you</i> that I chose it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;I am quite sure of that!&nbsp; Are
+you staying in this part?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Oh no!&nbsp; I live
+many miles distant, over an extremely rough road.&nbsp; And you?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;I am still at the Hydropathic; or
+at least my luggage is there.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;It must be very pleasant
+to attract you so long.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Not so pleasant as it was.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;No?&nbsp; A new proprietor,
+I suppose.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;No; same proprietor; but the house
+is empty.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i> (yawning purposely).&mdash;&ldquo;That
+is strange; the hotels are usually so full at this season.&nbsp; Why
+did so many leave?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;As a matter of fact, only one left.&nbsp;
+&lsquo;Full&rsquo; and &lsquo;empty&rsquo; are purely relative terms.&nbsp;
+I call a hotel full when it has you in it, empty when it hasn&rsquo;t.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i> (dying to laugh, but concealing her
+feelings).&mdash;&ldquo;I trust my bulk does not make the same impression
+on the general public!&nbsp; Well, I won&rsquo;t detain you longer;
+good afternoon; I must go home to my evening work.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;I will accompany you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;If you are a gentleman
+you will remain where you are.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;In the road?&nbsp; Perhaps; but if
+I am a man I shall follow you; they always do, I notice.&nbsp; What
+are those foolish bundles in the back of that silly cart?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Feed for the pony,
+please, sir; fish for dinner; randans and barley meal for the poultry;
+and four unsold rabbits.&nbsp; Wouldn&rsquo;t you like them?&nbsp; Only
+one and sixpence apiece.&nbsp; Shot at three o&rsquo;clock this morning.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Thanks; I don&rsquo;t like mine shot
+so early.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Oh, well! doubtless
+I shall be able to dispose of them on my way home, though times is &rsquo;ard!&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Do you mean that you will &ldquo;peddle&rdquo;
+them along the road?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;You understand me better
+than usual,&mdash;in fact to perfection.&rdquo;</p>
+<p>He dismounts and strides to the back of the cart, lifts the covers,
+seizes the rabbits, flings some silver contemptuously into the basket,
+and looks about him for a place to bury his bargain.&nbsp; A small boy
+approaching in the far distance will probably bag the game.</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i> (modestly).&mdash;&ldquo;Thanks for
+your trade, sir, rather ungraciously bestowed, and we &rsquo;opes for
+a continuance of your past fyvors.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i> (leaning on the wheel of the trap).&mdash;&ldquo;Let
+us stop this nonsense.&nbsp; What did you hope to gain by running away?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Distance and absence.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;You knew you couldn&rsquo;t prevent
+my offering myself to you sometime or other.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Perhaps not; but I
+could at least defer it, couldn&rsquo;t I?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Why postpone the inevitable?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Doubtless I shrank
+from giving you the pain of a refusal.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Perhaps; but do you know what I suspect?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;I&rsquo;m not a suspicious
+person, thank goodness!&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;That, on the contrary, you are wilfully
+withholding from me the joy of acceptance.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;If I intended to accept
+you, why did I run away?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;To make yourself more desirable and
+precious, I suppose.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i> (with the most confident coquetry).&mdash;&ldquo;Did
+I succeed?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;No; you failed utterly.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i> (secretly piqued).&mdash;&ldquo;Then
+I am glad I tried it.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;You couldn&rsquo;t succeed because
+you were superlatively desirable and precious already; but you should
+never have experimented.&nbsp; Don&rsquo;t you know that Love is a high
+explosive?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Is it?&nbsp; Then it
+ought always to be labelled &lsquo;dangerous,&rsquo; oughtn&rsquo;t
+it?&nbsp; But who thought of suggesting matches?&nbsp; I&rsquo;m sure
+I didn&rsquo;t!&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;No such luck; I wish you would.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;According to your theory,
+if you apply a match to Love it is likely to &lsquo;go off.&rsquo;&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;I wish you would try it on mine and
+await the result.&nbsp; Come now, you&rsquo;ll have to marry somebody,
+sometime.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;I confess I don&rsquo;t
+see the necessity.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i> (morosely).&mdash;&ldquo;You&rsquo;re the sort of
+woman men won&rsquo;t leave in undisturbed spinsterhood; they&rsquo;ll
+keep on badgering you.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Oh, I don&rsquo;t mind
+the badgering of a number of men; it&rsquo;s rather nice.&nbsp; It&rsquo;s
+the one badger I find obnoxious.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i> (impatiently).&mdash;&ldquo;That&rsquo;s just the
+perversity of things.&nbsp; I could put a stop to the protestations
+of the many; I should like nothing better&mdash;but the pertinacity
+of the one!&nbsp; Ah, well!&nbsp; I can&rsquo;t drop that without putting
+an end to my existence.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i> (politely).&mdash;&ldquo;I shouldn&rsquo;t
+think of suggesting anything so extreme.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i> (quoting).&mdash;&ldquo;&lsquo;Mrs. Hauksbee proceeded
+to take the conceit out of Pluffles as you remove the ribs of an umbrella
+before re-covering.&rsquo;&nbsp; However, you couldn&rsquo;t ask me
+anything seriously that I wouldn&rsquo;t do, dear Mistress Perversity.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i> (yielding a point).&mdash;&ldquo;I&rsquo;ll
+put that boldly to the proof.&nbsp; Say you don&rsquo;t love me!&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i> (seizing his advantage).&mdash;&ldquo;I don&rsquo;t!&nbsp;
+It&rsquo;s imbecile and besotted devotion!&nbsp; Tell me, when may I
+come to take you away?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i> (sighing).&mdash;&ldquo;It&rsquo;s
+like asking me to leave Heaven.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;I know it; she told me where to find
+you,&mdash;Thornycroft is the seventh poultry-farm I&rsquo;ve visited,&mdash;but
+you could never leave Heaven, you can&rsquo;t be happy without poultry,
+why that is a wish easily gratified.&nbsp; I&rsquo;ll get you a farm
+to-morrow; no, it&rsquo;s Saturday, and the real estate offices close
+at noon, but on Monday, without fail.&nbsp; Your ducks and geese, always
+carrying it along with you.&nbsp; All you would have to do is to admit
+me; Heaven is full of twos.&nbsp; If you shall swim on a crystal lake&mdash;Phoebe
+told me what a genius you have for getting them out of the muddy pond;
+she was sitting beside it when I called, her hand in that of a straw-coloured
+person named Gladwish, and the ground in her vicinity completely strewn
+with votive offerings.&nbsp; You shall splash your silver sea with an
+ivory wand; your hens shall have suburban cottages, each with its garden;
+their perches shall be of satin-wood and their water dishes of mother-of-pearl.&nbsp;
+You shall be the Goose Girl and I will be the Swan Herd&mdash;simply
+to be near you&mdash;for I hate live poultry.&nbsp; Dost like the picture?&nbsp;
+It&rsquo;s a little like Claude Melnotte&rsquo;s, I confess.&nbsp; The
+fact is I am not quite sane; talking with you after a fortnight of the
+tabbies at the Hydro is like quaffing inebriating vodka after Miffin&rsquo;s
+Food!&nbsp; May I come to-morrow?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiffs Daughter</i> (hedging).&mdash;&ldquo;I shall be rather
+busy; the Crossed Minorca hen comes off to-morrow.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Oh, never mind!&nbsp; I&rsquo;ll take
+her off to-night when I escort you to the farm; then she&rsquo;ll get
+a day&rsquo;s advantage.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;And rob fourteen prospective
+chicks of a mother; nay, lose the chicks themselves?&nbsp; Never!&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;So long as you are a Goose Girl, does
+it make any difference whose you are?&nbsp; Is it any more agreeable
+to be Mrs. Heaven&rsquo;s Goose Girl than mine?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;Ah! but in one case
+the term of service is limited; in the other, permanent.&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;But in the one case you are the slave
+of the employer, in the other the employer of the slave.&nbsp; Why did
+you run away?&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>Bailiff&rsquo;s Daughter</i>.&mdash;&ldquo;A man&rsquo;s mind
+is too dull an instrument to measure a woman&rsquo;s reason; even my
+own fails sometimes to deal with all its delicate shades; but I think
+I must have run away chiefly to taste the pleasure of being pursued
+and brought back.&nbsp; If it is necessary to your happiness that you
+should explore all the Bluebeard chambers of my being, I will confess
+further that it has taken you nearly three weeks to accomplish what
+I supposed you would do in three days!&rdquo;</p>
+<p><i>True Love</i> (after a well-spent interval).&mdash;&ldquo;To-morrow,
+then; shall we say before breakfast?&nbsp; All, do!&nbsp; Why not?&nbsp;
+Well, then, immediately after breakfast, and I breakfast at seven nowadays,
+and sometimes earlier.&nbsp; Do take off those ugly cotton gloves, dear;
+they are five sizes too large for you, and so rough and baggy to the
+touch!&rdquo;</p>
+<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DIARY OF A GOOSE GIRL***</p>
+<pre>
+
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+The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Diary of a Goose Girl, by Kate Douglas
+Wiggin
+
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
+
+
+
+
+
+Title: The Diary of a Goose Girl
+
+
+Author: Kate Douglas Wiggin
+
+Release Date: April 11, 2005  [eBook #1867]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII)
+
+
+***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DIARY OF A GOOSE GIRL***
+
+
+
+
+
+Transcribed from the 1902 Gay and Bird edition by David Price, email
+ccx074@coventry.ac.uk
+
+
+
+
+
+THE DIARY OF A GOOSE GIRL
+
+
+CHAPTER I.
+
+
+THORNYCROFT FARM, near Barbury Green, July 1, 190-.
+
+In alluding to myself as a Goose Girl, I am using only the most modest of
+my titles; for I am also a poultry-maid, a tender of Belgian hares and
+rabbits, and a shepherdess; but I particularly fancy the role of Goose
+Girl, because it recalls the German fairy tales of my early youth, when I
+always yearned, but never hoped, to be precisely what I now am.
+
+As I was jolting along these charming Sussex roads the other day, a fat
+buff pony and a tippy cart being my manner of progression, I chanced upon
+the village of Barbury Green.
+
+One glance was enough for any woman, who, having eyes to see, could see
+with them; but I made assurance doubly sure by driving about a little,
+struggling to conceal my new-born passion from the stable-boy who was my
+escort.  Then, it being high noon of a cloudless day, I descended from
+the trap and said to the astonished yokel: "You may go back to the
+Hydropathic; I am spending a month or two here.  Wait a moment--I'll send
+a message, please!"
+
+I then scribbled a word or two to those having me in custody.
+
+"I am very tired of people," the note ran, "and want to rest myself by
+living a while with things.  Address me (if you must) at Barbury Green
+post-office, or at all events send me a box of simple clothing
+there--nothing but shirts and skirts, please.  I cannot forget that I am
+only twenty miles from Oxenbridge (though it might be one hundred and
+twenty, which is the reason I adore it), but I rely upon you to keep an
+honourable distance yourselves, and not to divulge my place of retreat to
+others, especially to--you know whom!  Do not pursue me.  I will never be
+taken alive!"
+
+Having cut, thus, the cable that bound me to civilisation, and having
+seen the buff pony and the dazed yokel disappear in a cloud of dust, I
+looked about me with what Stevenson calls a "fine, dizzy, muddle-headed
+joy," the joy of a successful rebel or a liberated serf.  Plenty of money
+in my purse--that was unromantic, of course, but it simplified
+matters--and nine hours of daylight remaining in which to find a lodging.
+
+The village is one of the oldest, and I am sure it must be one of the
+quaintest, in England.  It is too small to be printed on the map (an
+honour that has spoiled more than one Arcadia), so pray do not look
+there, but just believe in it, and some day you may be rewarded by
+driving into it by chance, as I did, and feel the same Columbus thrill
+running, like an electric current, through your veins.  I withhold
+specific geographical information in order that you may not miss that
+Columbus thrill, which comes too seldom in a world of railroads.
+
+The Green is in the very centre of Barbury village, and all civic,
+political, family, and social life converges there, just at the public
+duck-pond--a wee, sleepy lake with a slope of grass-covered stones by
+which the ducks descend for their swim.
+
+The houses are set about the Green like those in a toy village.  They are
+of old brick, with crumpled, up-and-down roofs of deep-toned red, and
+tufts of stonecrop growing from the eaves.  Diamond-paned windows, half
+open, admit the sweet summer air; and as for the gardens in front, it
+would seem as if the inhabitants had nothing to do but work in them,
+there is such a riotous profusion of colour and bloom.  To add to the
+effect, there are always pots of flowers hanging from the trees, blue
+flax and yellow myrtle; and cages of Java sparrows and canaries singing
+joyously, as well they may in such a paradise.
+
+The shops are idyllic, too, as if Nature had seized even the man of trade
+and made him subservient to her designs.  The general draper's, where I
+fitted myself out for a day or two quite easily, is set back in a tangle
+of poppies and sweet peas, Madonna lilies and Canterbury bells.  The shop
+itself has a gay awning, and what do you think the draper has suspended
+from it, just as a picturesque suggestion to the passer-by?  Suggestion I
+call it, because I should blush to use the word advertisement in
+describing anything so dainty and decorative.  Well, then, garlands of
+shoes, if you please!  Baby bootlets of bronze; tiny ankle-ties in
+yellow, blue, and scarlet kid; glossy patent-leather pumps shining in the
+sun, with festoons of slippers at the corners, flowery slippers in
+imitation Berlin wool-work.  If you make this picture in your mind's-eye,
+just add a window above the awning, and over the fringe of marigolds in
+the window-box put the draper's wife dancing a rosy-cheeked baby.  Alas!
+my words are only black and white, I fear, and this picture needs a
+palette drenched in primary colours.
+
+Along the street, a short distance, is the old watchmaker's.  Set in the
+hedge at the gate is a glass case with _Multum in Parvo_ painted on the
+woodwork.  Within, a little stand of trinkets revolves slowly; as slowly,
+I imagine, as the current of business in that quiet street.  The house
+stands a trifle back and is covered thickly with ivy, while over the
+entrance-door of the shop is a great round clock set in a green frame of
+clustering vine.  The hands pointed to one when I passed the watchmaker's
+garden with its thicket of fragrant lavender and its murmuring bees; so I
+went in to the sign of the "Strong i' the Arm" for some cold luncheon,
+determining to patronise "The Running Footman" at the very next
+opportunity.  Neither of these inns is starred by Baedeker, and this fact
+adds the last touch of enchantment to the picture.
+
+The landlady at the "Strong i' the Arm" stabbed me in the heart by
+telling me that there were no apartments to let in the village, and that
+she had no private sitting-room in the inn; but she speedily healed the
+wound by saying that I might be accommodated at one of the farm-houses in
+the vicinity.  Did I object to a farm-'ouse?  Then she could cheerfully
+recommend the Evan's farm, only 'alf a mile away.  She 'ad understood
+from Miss Phoebe Evan, who sold her poultry, that they would take one
+lady lodger if she didn't wish much waiting upon.
+
+In my present mood I was in search of the strenuous life, and eager to
+wait, rather than to be waited upon; so I walked along the edge of the
+Green, wishing that some mentally unbalanced householder would take a
+sudden fancy to me and ask me to come in and lodge awhile.  I suppose
+these families live under their roofs of peach-blow tiles, in the midst
+of their blooming gardens, for a guinea a week or thereabouts; yet if
+they "undertook" me (to use their own phrase), the bill for my humble
+meals and bed would be at least double that.  I don't know that I blame
+them; one should have proper compensation for admitting a world-stained
+lodger into such an Eden.
+
+When I was searching for rooms a week ago, I chanced upon a pretty
+cottage where the woman had sometimes let apartments.  She showed me the
+premises and asked me if I would mind taking my meals in her own dining-
+room, where I could be served privately at certain hours: and, since she
+had but the one sitting-room, would I allow her to go on using it
+occasionally? also, if I had no special preference, would I take the
+second-sized bedroom and leave her in possession of the largest one,
+which permitted her to have the baby's crib by her bedside?  She thought
+I should be quite as comfortable, and it was her opinion that in making
+arrangements with lodgers, it was a good plan not to "bryke up the 'ome
+any more than was necessary."
+
+"Bryke up the 'ome!"  That is seemingly the malignant purpose with which
+I entered Barbury Green.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+July 4th.
+
+Enter the family of Thornycroft Farm, of which I am already a member in
+good and regular standing.
+
+I introduce Mrs. Heaven first, for she is a self-saturated person who
+would never forgive the insult should she receive any lower place.
+
+She welcomed me with the statement: "We do not take lodgers here, nor
+boarders; no lodgers, nor boarders, but we do occasionally admit paying
+guests, those who look as if they would appreciate the quietude of the
+plyce and be willing as you might say to remunerate according."
+
+I did not mind at this particular juncture what I was called, so long as
+the epithet was comparatively unobjectionable, so I am a paying guest,
+therefore, and I expect to pay handsomely for the handsome appellation.
+Mrs. Heaven is short and fat; she fills her dress as a pin-cushion fills
+its cover; she wears a cap and apron, and she is so full of platitudes
+that she would have burst had I not appeared as a providential outlet for
+them.  Her accent is not of the farm, but of the town, and smacks wholly
+of the marts of trade.  She is repetitious, too, as well as
+platitudinous.  "I 'ope if there's anythink you require you will let us
+know, let us know," she says several times each day; and whenever she
+enters my sitting-room she prefaces her conversation with the remark: "I
+trust you are finding it quiet here, miss?  It's the quietude of the
+plyce that is its charm, yes, the quietude.  And yet" (she dribbles on)
+"it wears on a body after a while, miss.  I often go into Woodmucket to
+visit one of my sons just for the noise, simply for the noise, miss, for
+nothink else in the world but the noise.  There's nothink like noise for
+soothing nerves that is worn threadbare with the quietude, miss, or at
+least that's my experience; and yet to a strynger the quietude of the
+plyce is its charm, undoubtedly its chief charm; and that is what our
+paying guests always say, although our charges are somewhat higher than
+other plyces.  If there's anythink you require, miss, I 'ope you'll
+mention it.  There is not a commodious assortment in Barbury Green, but
+we can always send the pony to Woodmucket in case of urgency.  Our paying
+guest last summer was a Mrs. Pollock, and she was by way of having sudden
+fancies.  Young and unmarried though you are, miss, I think you will tyke
+my meaning without my speaking plyner?  Well, at six o'clock of a rainy
+afternoon, she was seized with an unaccountable desire for vegetable
+marrows, and Mr. 'Eaven put the pony in the cart and went to Woodmucket
+for them, which is a great advantage to be so near a town and yet 'ave
+the quietude."
+
+Mr. Heaven is merged, like Mr. Jellyby, in the more shining qualities of
+his wife.  A line of description is too long for him.  Indeed, I can
+think of no single word brief enough, at least in English.  The Latin
+"nil" will do, since no language is rich in words of less than three
+letters.  He is nice, kind, bald, timid, thin, and so colourless that he
+can scarcely be discerned save in a strong light.  When Mrs. Heaven goes
+out into the orchard in search of him, I can hardly help calling from my
+window, "Bear a trifle to the right, Mrs. Heaven--now to the left--just
+in front of you now--if you put out your hands you will touch him."
+
+Phoebe, aged seventeen, is the daughter of the house.  She is virtuous,
+industrious, conscientious, and singularly destitute of physical charm.
+She is more than plain; she looks as if she had been planned without any
+definite purpose in view, made of the wrong materials, been badly put
+together, and never properly finished off; but "plain" after all is a
+relative word.  Many a plain girl has been married for her beauty; and
+now and then a beauty, falling under a cold eye, has been thought plain.
+
+Phoebe has her compensations, for she is beloved by, and reciprocates the
+passion of, the Woodmancote carrier, Woodmucket being the English manner
+of pronouncing the place of his abode.  If he "carries" as energetically
+for the great public as he fetches for Phoebe, then he must be a rising
+and a prosperous man.  He brings her daily, wild strawberries, cherries,
+birds' nests, peacock feathers, sea-shells, green hazel-nuts, samples of
+hens' food, or bouquets of wilted field flowers tied together tightly and
+held with a large, moist, loving hand.  He has fine curly hair of sandy
+hue, which forms an aureole on his brow, and a reddish beard, which makes
+another inverted aureole to match, round his chin.  One cannot look at
+him, especially when the sun shines through him, without thinking how
+lovely he would be if stuffed and set on wheels, with a little string to
+drag him about.
+
+Phoebe confided to me that she was on the eve of loving the postman when
+the carrier came across her horizon.
+
+"It doesn't do to be too hysty, does it, miss?" she asked me as we were
+weeding the onion bed.  "I was to give the postman his answer on the
+Monday night, and it was on the Monday morning that Mr. Gladwish made his
+first trip here as carrier.  I may say I never wyvered from that moment,
+and no more did he.  When I think how near I came to promising the
+postman it gives me a turn."  (I can understand that, for I once met the
+man I nearly promised years before to marry, and we both experienced such
+a sense of relief at being free instead of bound that we came near
+falling in love for sheer joy.)
+
+The last and most important member of the household is the Square Baby.
+His name is Albert Edward, and he is really five years old and no baby at
+all; but his appearance on this planet was in the nature of a complete
+surprise to all parties concerned, and he is spoiled accordingly.  He has
+a square head and jaw, square shoulders, square hands and feet.  He is
+red and white and solid and stolid and slow-witted, as the young of his
+class commonly are, and will make a bulwark of the nation in course of
+time, I should think; for England has to produce a few thousand such
+square babies every year for use in the colonies and in the standing
+army.  Albert Edward has already a military gait, and when he has
+acquired a habit of obedience at all comparable with his power of
+command, he will be able to take up the white man's burden with
+distinguished success.  Meantime I can never look at him without
+marvelling how the English climate can transmute bacon and eggs, tea and
+the solid household loaf into such radiant roses and lilies as bloom upon
+his cheeks and lips.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+July 8th.
+
+Thornycroft is by way of being a small poultry farm.
+
+In reaching it from Barbury Green, you take the first left-hand road, go
+till you drop, and there you are.
+
+It reminds me of my "grandmother's farm at Older."  Did you know the song
+when you were a child?--
+
+   My grandmother had a very fine farm
+   'Way down in the fields of Older.
+   With a cluck-cluck here,
+   And a cluck-cluck there,
+   Here and there a cluck-cluck,
+   Cluck-cluck here and there,
+   Down in the fields at Older.
+
+It goes on for ever by the simple subterfuge of changing a few words in
+each verse.
+
+   My grandmother had a very fine farm
+   'Way down in the fields of Older.
+   With a quack-quack here,
+   And a quack-quack there,
+   Here and there a quack-quack,
+   Quack-quack here and there,
+   Down in the fields at Older.
+
+This is followed by the gobble-gobble, moo-moo, baa-baa, etc., as long as
+the laureate's imagination and the infant's breath hold good.  The tune
+is pretty, and I do not know, or did not, when I was young, a more
+fascinating lyric.
+
+Thornycroft House must have belonged to a country gentleman once upon a
+time, or to more than one; men who built on a bit here and there once in
+a hundred years, until finally we have this charmingly irregular and
+dilapidated whole.  You go up three steps into Mrs. Heaven's room, down
+two into mine, while Phoebe's is up in a sort of turret with long, narrow
+lattices opening into the creepers.  There are crooked little
+stair-cases, passages that branch off into other passages and lead
+nowhere in particular; I can't think of a better house in which to play
+hide and seek on a wet day.  In front, what was once, doubtless, a green,
+is cut up into greens; to wit, a vegetable garden, where the onions,
+turnips, and potatoes grow cosily up to the very door-sill; the
+utilitarian aspect of it all being varied by some scarlet-runners and a
+scattering of poppies on either side of the path.
+
+The Belgian hares have their habitation in a corner fifty feet distant;
+one large enclosure for poultry lies just outside the sweetbrier hedge;
+the others, with all the houses and coops, are in the meadow at the back,
+where also our tumbler pigeons are kept.
+
+Phoebe attends to the poultry; it is her department.  Mr. Heaven has
+neither the force nor the _finesse_ required, and the gentle reader who
+thinks these qualities unneeded in so humble a calling has only to spend
+a few days at Thornycroft to be convinced.  Mrs. Heaven would be of use,
+but she is dressing the Square Baby in the morning and putting him to bed
+at night just at the hours when the feathered young things are undergoing
+the same operation.
+
+A Goose Girl, like a poet, is sometimes born, sometimes otherwise.  I am
+of the born variety.  No training was necessary; I put my head on my
+pillow as a complicated product of modern civilisation on a Tuesday
+night, and on a Wednesday morning I awoke as a Goose Girl.
+
+My destiny slumbered during the day, but at eight o'clock I heard a
+terrific squawking in the direction of the duck-ponds, and, aimlessly
+drifting in that direction, I came upon Phoebe trying to induce ducks and
+drakes, geese and ganders, to retire for the night.  They have to be
+driven into enclosures behind fences of wire netting, fastened into
+little rat-proof boxes, or shut into separate coops, so as to be safe
+from their natural enemies, the rats and foxes; which, obeying, I
+suppose, the law of supply and demand, abound in this neighbourhood.  The
+old ganders are allowed their liberty, being of such age, discretion,
+sagacity, and pugnacity that they can be trusted to fight their own
+battles.
+
+The intelligence of hens, though modest, is of such an order that it
+prompts them to go to bed at a virtuous hour of their own accord; but
+ducks and geese have to be materially assisted, or I believe they would
+roam till morning.  Never did small boy detest and resist being carried
+off to his nursery as these dullards, young and old, detest and resist
+being driven to theirs.  Whether they suffer from insomnia, or nightmare,
+or whether they simply prefer the sweet air of liberty (and death) to the
+odour of captivity and the coop, I have no means of knowing.
+
+Phoebe stood by one of the duck-ponds, a long pole in her hand, and a
+helpless expression in that doughlike countenance of hers, where aimless
+contours and features unite to make a kind of facial blur.  (What does
+the carrier see in it?)  The pole was not long enough to reach the ducks,
+and Phoebe's method lacked spirit and adroitness, so that it was natural,
+perhaps, that they refused to leave the water, the evening being warm,
+with an uncommon fine sunset.
+
+I saw the situation at once and ran to meet it with a glow of interest
+and anticipation.  If there is anything in the world I enjoy, it is
+making somebody do something that he doesn't want to do; and if, when
+victory perches upon my banner, the somebody can be brought to say that
+he ought to have done it without my making him, that adds the
+unforgettable touch to pleasure, though seldom, alas! does it happen.
+Then ensued the delightful and stimulating hour that has now become a
+feature of the day; an hour in which the remembrance of the table-d'hote
+dinner at the Hydro, going on at identically the same time, only stirs me
+to a keener joy and gratitude.
+
+The ducks swim round in circles, hide under the willows, and attempt to
+creep into the rat-holes in the banks, a stupidity so crass that it
+merits instant death, which it somehow always escapes.  Then they come
+out in couples and waddle under the wrong fence into the lower meadow,
+fly madly under the tool-house, pitch blindly in with the sitting hens,
+and out again in short order, all the time quacking and squawking,
+honking and hissing like a bewildered orchestra.  By dint of splashing
+the water with poles, throwing pebbles, beating the shrubs at the pond's
+edges, "shooing" frantically with our skirts, crawling beneath bars to
+head them off, and prodding them from under bushes to urge them on, we
+finally get the older ones out of the water and the younger ones into
+some sort of relation to their various retreats; but, owing to their lack
+of geography, hatred of home, and general recalcitrancy, they none of
+them turn up in the right place and have to be sorted out.  We uncover
+the top of the little house, or the enclosure as it may be, or reach in
+at the door, and, seizing the struggling victim, drag him forth and take
+him where he should have had the wit to go in the first instance.  The
+weak ones get in with the strong and are in danger of being trampled; two
+May goslings that look almost full-grown have run into a house with a
+brood of ducklings a week old.  There are twenty-seven crowded into one
+coop, five in another, nineteen in another; the gosling with one leg has
+to come out, and the duckling threatened with the gapes; their place is
+with the "invaleeds," as Phoebe calls them, but they never learn the
+location of the hospital, nor have the slightest scruple about spreading
+contagious diseases.
+
+Finally, when we have separated and sorted exhaustively, an operation in
+which Phoebe shows a delicacy of discrimination and a fearlessness of
+attack amounting to genius, we count the entire number and find several
+missing.  Searching for their animate or inanimate bodies, we "scoop" one
+from under the tool-house, chance upon two more who are being harried and
+pecked by the big geese in the lower meadow, and discover one sailing by
+himself in solitary splendour in the middle of the deserted pond, a look
+of evil triumph in his bead-like eye.  Still we lack one young duckling,
+and he at length is found dead by the hedge.  A rat has evidently seized
+him and choked him at a single throttle, but in such haste that he has
+not had time to carry away the tiny body.
+
+"Poor think!" says Phoebe tearfully; "it looks as if it was 'it with some
+kind of a wepping.  I don't know whatever to do with the rats, they're
+gettin' that fearocious!"
+
+Before I was admitted into daily contact with the living goose (my
+previous intercourse with him having been carried on when gravy and
+stuffing obscured his true personality), I thought him a very Dreyfus
+among fowls, a sorely slandered bird, to whom justice had never been
+done; for even the gentle Darwin is hard upon him.  My opinion is
+undergoing some slight modifications, but I withhold judgment at present,
+hoping that some of the follies, faults, vagaries, and limitations that I
+observe in Phoebe's geese may be due to Phoebe's educational methods,
+which were, before my advent, those of the darkest ages.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+July 9th.
+
+By the time the ducks and geese are incarcerated for the night, the
+reasonable, sensible, practical-minded hens--especially those whose
+mentality is increased and whose virtue is heightened by the
+responsibilities of motherhood--have gone into their own particular rat-
+proof boxes, where they are waiting in a semi-somnolent state to have the
+wire doors closed, the bricks set against them, and the bits of sacking
+flung over the tops to keep out the draught.  We have a great many young
+families, both ducklings and chicks, but we have no duck mothers at
+present.  The variety of bird which Phoebe seems to have bred during the
+past year may be called the New Duck, with certain radical ideas about
+woman's sphere.  What will happen to Thornycroft if we develop a New Hen
+and a New Cow, my imagination fails to conceive.  There does not seem to
+be the slightest danger for the moment, however, and our hens lay and sit
+and sit and lay as if laying and sitting were the twin purposes of life.
+
+The nature of the hen seems to broaden with the duties of maternity, but
+I think myself that we presume a little upon her amiability and natural
+motherliness.  It is one thing to desire a family of one's own, to lay
+eggs with that idea in view, to sit upon them three long weeks and hatch
+out and bring up a nice brood of chicks.  It must be quite another to
+have one's eggs abstracted day by day and eaten by a callous public, the
+nest filled with deceitful substitutes, and at the end of a dull and
+weary period of hatching to bring into the world another person's
+children--children, too, of the wrong size, the wrong kind of bills and
+feet, and, still more subtle grievance, the wrong kind of instincts,
+leading them to a dangerous aquatic career, one which the mother may not
+enter to guide, guard, and teach; one on the brink of which she must ever
+stand, uttering dryshod warnings which are never heeded.  They grow used
+to this strange order of things after a bit, it is true, and are less
+anxious and excited.  When the duck-brood returns safely again and again
+from what the hen-mother thinks will prove a watery grave, she becomes
+accustomed to the situation, I suppose.  I find that at night she stands
+by the pond for what she considers a decent, self-respecting length of
+time, calling the ducklings out of the water; then, if they refuse to
+come, the mother goes off to bed and leaves them to Providence, or
+Phoebe.
+
+The brown hen that we have named Cornelia is the best mother, the one who
+waits longest and most patiently for the web-footed Gracchi to finish
+their swim.
+
+When a chick is taken out of the incubytor (as Phoebe calls it) and
+refused by all the other hens, Cornelia generally accepts it, though she
+had twelve of her own when we began using her as an orphan asylum.  "Wings
+are made to stretch," she seems to say cheerfully, and with a kind glance
+of her round eye she welcomes the wanderer and the outcast.  She even
+tended for a time the offspring of an absent-minded, light-headed
+pheasant who flew over a four-foot wall and left her young behind her to
+starve; it was not a New Pheasant, either; for the most conservative and
+old-fashioned of her tribe occasionally commits domestic solecisms of
+this sort.
+
+There is no telling when, where, or how the maternal instinct will assert
+itself.  Among our Thornycroft cats is a certain Mrs. Greyskin.  She had
+not been seen for many days, and Mrs. Heaven concluded that she had
+hidden herself somewhere with a family of kittens; but as the supply of
+that article with us more than equals the demand, we had not searched for
+her with especial zeal.
+
+The other day Mrs. Greyskin appeared at the dairy door, and when she had
+been fed Phoebe and I followed her stealthily, from a distance.  She
+walked slowly about as if her mind were quite free from harassing care,
+and finally approached a deserted cow-house where there was a great mound
+of straw.  At this moment she caught sight of us and turned in another
+direction to throw us off the scent.  We persevered in our intention of
+going into her probable retreat, and were cautiously looking for some
+sign of life in the haymow, when we heard a soft cackle and a ruffling of
+plumage.  Coming closer to the sound we saw a black hen brooding a nest,
+her bright bead eyes turning nervously from side to side; and, coaxed out
+from her protecting wings by youthful curiosity, came four kittens, eyes
+wide open, warm, happy, ready for sport!
+
+The sight was irresistible, and Phoebe ran for Mr. and Mrs. Heaven and
+the Square Baby.  Mother Hen was not to be embarrassed or daunted, even
+if her most sacred feelings were regarded in the light of a cheap
+entertainment.  She held her ground while one of the kits slid up and
+down her glossy back, and two others, more timid, crept underneath her
+breast, only daring to put out their pink noses!  We retired then for
+very shame and met Mrs. Greyskin in the doorway.  This should have
+thickened the plot, but there is apparently no rivalry nor animosity
+between the co-mothers.  We watch them every day now, through a window in
+the roof.  Mother Greyskin visits the kittens frequently, lies down
+beside the home nest, and gives them their dinner.  While this is going
+on Mother Blackwing goes modestly away for a bite, a sup, and a little
+exercise, returning to the kittens when the cat leaves them.  It is
+pretty to see her settle down over the four, fat, furry dumplings, and
+they seem to know no difference in warmth or comfort, whichever mother is
+brooding them; while, as their eyes have been open for a week, it can no
+longer be called a blind error on their part.
+
+When we have closed all our small hen-nurseries for the night, there is
+still the large house inhabited by the thirty-two full-grown chickens
+which Phoebe calls the broilers.  I cannot endure the term, and will not
+use it.  "Now for the April chicks," I say every evening.
+
+"Do you mean the broilers?" asks Phoebe.
+
+"I mean the big April chicks," say I.
+
+"Yes, them are the broilers," says she.
+
+But is it not disagreeable enough to be a broiler when one's time comes,
+without having the gridiron waved in one's face for weeks beforehand?
+
+The April chicks are all lively and desirous of seeing the world as
+thoroughly as possible before going to roost or broil.  As a general
+thing, we find in the large house sixteen young fowls of the
+contemplative, flavourless, resigned-to-the-inevitable variety; three
+more (the same three every night) perch on the roof and are driven down;
+four (always the same four) cling to the edge of the open door, waiting
+to fly off, but not in, when you attempt to close it; nine huddle
+together on a place in the grass about forty feet distant, where a small
+coop formerly stood in the prehistoric ages.  This small coop was one in
+which they lodged for a fortnight when they were younger, and when those
+absolutely indelible impressions are formed of which we read in
+educational maxims.  It was taken away long since, but the nine loyal (or
+stupid) Casabiancas cling to the sacred spot where its foundations
+rested; they accordingly have to be caught and deposited bodily in the
+house, and this requires strategy, as they note our approach from a
+considerable distance.
+
+Finally all are housed but two, the little white cock and the black
+pullet, who are still impish and of a wandering mind.  Though headed off
+in every direction, they fly into the hedges and hide in the underbrush.
+We beat the hedge on the other side, but with no avail.  We dive into the
+thicket of wild roses, sweetbrier, and thistles on our hands and knees,
+coming out with tangled hair, scratched noses, and no hens.  Then, when
+all has been done that human ingenuity can suggest, Phoebe goes to her
+late supper and I do sentry-work.  I stroll to a safe distance, and,
+sitting on one of the rat-proof boxes, watch the bushes with an eagle
+eye.  Five minutes go by, ten, fifteen; and then out steps the white
+cock, stealthily tiptoeing toward the home into which he refused to go at
+our instigation.  In a moment out creeps the obstinate little beast of a
+black pullet from the opposite clump.  The wayward pair meet at their own
+door, which I have left open a few inches.  When all is still I walk
+gently down the field, and, warned by previous experiences, approach the
+house from behind.  I draw the door to softly and quickly; but not so
+quickly that the evil-minded and suspicious black pullet hasn't time to
+spring out, with a make-believe squawk of fright--that induces three
+other blameless chickens to fly down from their perches and set the whole
+flock in a flutter.  Then I fall from grace and call her a Broiler; and
+when, after some minutes of hot pursuit, I catch her by falling over her
+in the corner by the goose-pen, I address her as a fat, juicy Broiler
+with parsley butter and a bit of bacon.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+July 10th.
+
+At ten thirty or so in the morning the cackling begins.  I wonder exactly
+what it means!  Have the forest-lovers who listen so respectfully to, and
+interpret so exquisitely, the notes of birds--have none of them made
+psychological investigations of the hen cackle?  Can it be simple
+elation?  One could believe that of the first few eggs, but a hen who has
+laid two or three hundred can hardly feel the same exuberant pride and
+joy daily.  Can it be the excitement incident to successful achievement?
+Hardly, because the task is so extremely simple.  Eggs are more or less
+alike; a little larger or smaller, a trifle whiter or browner; and almost
+sure to be quite right as to details; that is, the big end never gets
+confused with the little end, they are always ovoid and never spherical,
+and the yolk is always inside of the white.  As for a soft-shelled egg,
+it is so rare an occurrence that the fear of laying one could not set the
+whole race of hens in a panic; so there really cannot be any intellectual
+or emotional agitation in producing a thing that might be made by a
+machine.  Can it be simply "fussiness"; since the people who have the
+least to do commonly make the most flutter about doing it?
+
+Perhaps it is merely conversation.  "_Cut-cut-cut-cut-cut_-DAH_cut_! . .
+. I have finished my strictly fresh egg, have you laid yours?  Make
+haste, then, for the cock has found a gap in the wire-fence and wants us
+to wander in the strawberry-bed. . . . Cut-cut-cut-cut-cut-DAH_cut_ . . .
+Every moment is precious, for the Goose Girl will find us, when she
+gathers the strawberries for her luncheon . . . Cut-cut-cut-cut!  On the
+way out we can find sweet places to steal nests . . . Cut-cut-cut! . . .
+I am so glad I am not sitting this heavenly morning; it _is_ a dull life.
+
+A Lancashire poultryman drifted into Barbury Green yesterday.  He is an
+old acquaintance of Mr. Heaven, and spent the night and part of the next
+day at Thornycroft Farm.  He possessed a deal of fowl philosophy, and
+tells many a good hen story, which, like fish stories, draw rather
+largely on the credulity of the audience.  We were sitting in the
+rickyard talking comfortably about laying and cackling and kindred
+matters when he took his pipe from his mouth and told us the following
+tale--not a bad one if you can translate the dialect:--
+
+'Aw were once towd as, if yo' could only get th' hen's egg away afooar
+she hed sin it, th' hen 'ud think it hed med a mistek an' sit deawn
+ageean an' lay another.
+
+"An' it seemed to me it were a varra sensible way o' lukkin' at it.  Sooa
+aw set to wark to mek a nest as 'ud tek a rise eawt o' th' hens.  An' aw
+dud it too.  Aw med a nest wi' a fause bottom, th' idea bein' as when a
+hen hed laid, th' egg 'ud drop through into a box underneyth.
+
+"Aw felt varra preawd o' that nest, too, aw con tell yo', an' aw remember
+aw felt quite excited when aw see an awd black Minorca, th' best layer as
+aw hed, gooa an' settle hersel deawn i' th' nest an' get ready for wark.
+Th' hen seemed quite comfortable enough, aw were glad to see, an' geet
+through th' operation beawt ony seemin' trouble.
+
+"Well, aw darsay yo' know heaw a hen carries on as soon as it's laid a
+egg.  It starts "chuckin'" away like a showman's racket, an' after
+tekkin' a good Ink at th' egg to see whether it's a big 'un or a little
+'un, gooas eawt an' tells all t'other hens abeawt it.
+
+"Neaw, this black Minorca, as aw sed, were a owdish bird, an' maybe knew
+mooar than aw thowt.  Happen it hed laid on a nest wi' a fause bottom
+afooar, an' were up to th' trick, but whether or not, aw never see a hen
+luk mooar disgusted i' mi life when it lukked i' th' nest an' see as it
+hed hed all that trouble fer nowt.
+
+"It woked reawnd th' nest as if it couldn't believe its own eyes.
+
+"But it dudn't do as aw expected.  Aw expected as it 'ud sit deawn ageean
+an' lay another.
+
+"But it just gi'e one wonderin' sooart o' chuck, an then, after a long
+stare reawnd th' hen-coyt, it woked eawt, as mad a hen as aw've ever sin.
+Aw fun' eawt after, what th' long stare meant.  It were tekkin' farewell!
+For if yo'll believe me that hen never laid another egg i' ony o' my
+nests.
+
+"Varra like it laid away in a spot wheear it could hev summat to luk at
+when it hed done wark for th' day.
+
+"Sooa aw lost mi best layer through mi actin', an' aw've never invented
+owt sen."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+One learns to be modest by living on a poultry farm, for there are
+constant expositions of the most deplorable vanity among the cocks.  We
+have a couple of pea-fowl who certainly are an addition to the landscape,
+as they step mincingly along the square of turf we dignify by the name of
+lawn.  The head of the house has a most languid and self-conscious strut,
+and his microscopic mind is fixed entirely on his splendid trailing tail.
+If I could only master his language sufficiently to tell him how
+hideously ugly the back view of this gorgeous fan is, when he spreads it
+for the edification of the observer in front of him, he would of course
+retort that there is a "congregation side" to everything, but I should at
+least force him into a defence of his tail and a confession of its
+limitations.  This would be new and unpleasant, I fancy; and if it
+produced no perceptible effect upon his super-arrogant demeanour, I might
+remind him that he is likely to be used, eventually, for a feather
+duster, unless, indeed, the Heavens are superstitious and prefer to throw
+his tail away, rather than bring ill luck and the evil eye into the
+house.
+
+The longer I study the cock, whether Black Spanish, White Leghorn,
+Dorking, or the common barnyard fowl, the more intimately I am acquainted
+with him, the less I am impressed with his character.  He has more pride
+of bearing, and less to be proud of, than any bird I know.  He is
+indolent, though he struts pompously over the grass as if the day were
+all too short for his onerous duties.  He calls the hens about him when I
+throw corn from the basket, but many a time I have seen him swallow
+hurriedly, and in private, some dainty titbit he has found unexpectedly.
+He has no particular chivalry.  He gives no special encouragement to his
+hen when he becomes a prospective father, and renders little assistance
+when the responsibilities become actualities.  His only personal message
+or contribution to the world is his raucous cock-a-doodle-doo, which,
+being uttered most frequently at dawn, is the most ill-timed and
+offensive of all musical notes.  It is so unnecessary too, as if the day
+didn't come soon enough without his warning; but I suppose he is anxious
+to waken his hens and get them at their daily task, and so he disturbs
+the entire community.  In short, I dislike him; his swagger, his
+autocratic strut, his greed, his irritating self-consciousness, his
+endless parading of himself up and down in a procession of one.
+
+Of course his character is largely the result of polygamy.  His
+weaknesses are only what might be expected; and as for the hens, I have
+considerable respect for the patience, sobriety, and dignity with which
+they endure an institution particularly offensive to all women.  In their
+case they do not even have the sustaining thought of its being an article
+of religion, so they are to be complimented the more.
+
+There is nothing on earth so feminine as a hen--not womanly, simply
+feminine.  Those men of insight who write the Woman's Page in the Sunday
+newspapers study hens more than women, I sometimes think; at any rate,
+their favourite types are all present on this poultry farm.
+
+Some families of White Leghorns spend most of their time in the rickyard,
+where they look extremely pretty, their slender white shapes and red
+combs and wattles well set off by the background of golden hayricks.
+There is a great oak-tree in one corner, with a tall ladder leaning
+against its trunk, and a capital roosting-place on a long branch running
+at right angles with the ladder.  I try to spend a quarter of an hour
+there every night before supper, just for the pleasure of seeing the
+feathered "women-folks" mount that ladder.
+
+A dozen of them surround the foot, waiting restlessly for their turn.  One
+little white lady flutters up on the lowest round and perches there until
+she reviews the past, faces the present, and forecasts the future; during
+which time she is gathering courage for the next jump.  She cackles,
+takes up one foot and then the other, tilts back and forth, holds up her
+skirts and drops them again, cocks her head nervously to see whether they
+are all staring at her below, gives half a dozen preliminary springs
+which mean nothing, declares she can't and won't go up any faster, unties
+her bonnet strings and pushes back her hair, pulls down her dress to
+cover her toes, and finally alights on the next round, swaying to and fro
+until she gains her equilibrium, when she proceeds to enact the same
+scene over again.
+
+All this time the hens at the foot of the ladder are criticising her
+methods and exclaiming at the length of time she requires in mounting;
+while the cocks stroll about the yard keeping one eye on the ladder,
+picking up a seed here and there, and giving a masculine sneer now and
+then at the too-familiar scene.  They approach the party at intervals,
+but only to remark that it always makes a man laugh to see a woman go up
+a ladder.  The next hen, stirred to the depths by this speech, flies up
+entirely too fast, loses her head, tumbles off the top round, and has to
+make the ascent over again.  Thus it goes on and on, this _petite comedie
+humaine_, and I could enjoy it with my whole heart if Mr. Heaven did not
+insist on sharing the spectacle with me.  He is so inexpressibly dull, so
+destitute of humour, that I did not think it likely he would see in the
+performance anything more than a flock of hens going up a ladder to
+roost.  But he did; for there is no man so blind that he cannot see the
+follies of women; and, when he forgot himself so far as to utter a few
+genial, silly, well-worn reflections upon femininity at large, I turned
+upon him and revealed to him some of the characteristics of his own sex,
+gained from an exhaustive study of the barnyard fowl of the masculine
+gender.  He went into the house discomfited, though chuckling a little at
+my vehemence; but at least I have made it for ever impossible for him to
+watch his hens without an occasional glance at the cocks.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+July 12th.
+
+O the pathos of a poultry farm!  Catherine of Aragon, the black Spanish
+hen that stole her nest, brought out nine chicks this morning, and the
+business-like and marble-hearted Phoebe has taken them away and given
+them to another hen who has only seven.  Two mothers cannot be wasted on
+these small families--it would not be profitable; and the older mother,
+having been tried and found faithful over seven, has been given the other
+nine and accepted them.  What of the bereft one?  She is miserable and
+stands about moping and forlorn, but it is no use fighting against the
+inevitable; hens' hearts must obey the same laws that govern the rotation
+of crops.  Catherine of Aragon feels her lot a bitter one just now, but
+in time she will succumb, and lay, which is more to the point.
+
+We have had a very busy evening, beginning with the rats' supper--delicate
+sandwiches of bread-and-butter spread with Paris green.
+
+We have a new brood of seventeen ducklings just hatched this afternoon.
+When we came to the nest the yellow and brown bunches of down and fluff
+were peeping out from under the hen's wings in the prettiest fashion in
+the world.
+
+"It's a noble hen!" I said to Phoebe.
+
+"She ain't so nowble as she looks," Phoebe answered grimly.  "It was
+another 'en that brooded these eggs for near on three weeks and then this
+big one come along with a fancy she'd like a family 'erself if she could
+steal one without too much trouble; so she drove the rightful 'en off the
+nest, finished up the last few days, and 'ere she is in possession of the
+ducklings!"
+
+"Why don't you take them away from her and give them back to the first
+hen, who did most of the work?" I asked, with some spirit.
+
+"Like as not she wouldn't tyke them now," said Phoebe, as she lifted the
+hen off the broken egg-shells and moved her gently into a clean box, on a
+bed of fresh hay.  We put food and drink within reach of the family, and
+very proud and handsome that highway robber of a hen looked, as she
+stretched her wings over the seventeen easily-earned ducklings.
+
+Going back to the old nesting-box, I found one egg forgotten among the
+shells.  It was still warm, and I took it up to run across the field with
+it to Phoebe.  It was heavy, and the carrying of it was a queer
+sensation, inasmuch as it squirmed and "yipped" vociferously in transit,
+threatening so unmistakably to hatch in my hand that I was decidedly
+nervous.  The intrepid little youngster burst his shell as he touched
+Phoebe's apron, and has become the strongest and handsomest of the brood.
+
+All this tending of downy young things, this feeding and putting to bed,
+this petting and nursing and rearing, is such pretty, comforting woman's
+work.  I am sure Phoebe will make a better wife to the carrier for having
+been a poultry-maid, and though good enough for most practical purposes
+when I came here, I am an infinitely better woman now.  I am afraid I was
+not particularly nice the last few days at the Hydro.  Such a lot of
+dull, prosy, inquisitive, bothering old tabbies!  Aunt Margaret
+furnishing imaginary symptoms enough to keep a fond husband and two
+trained nurses distracted; a man I had never encouraged in my life coming
+to stay in the neighbourhood and turning up daily for rejection; another
+man taking rooms at the very hotel with the avowed purpose of making my
+life a burden; and on the heels of both, a widow of thirty-five in full
+chase!  Small wonder I thought it more dignified to retire than to
+compete, and so I did.
+
+I need not, however, have cut the threads that bound me to Oxenbridge
+with such particularly sharp scissors, nor given them such a vicious
+snap; for, so far as I can observe, the little world of which I imagined
+myself the sun continues to revolve, and, probably, about some other
+centre.  I can well imagine who has taken up that delightful but somewhat
+exposed and responsible position--it would be just like her!
+
+I am perfectly happy where I am; it is not that; but it seems so strange
+that they can be perfectly happy without me, after all that they--after
+all that was said on the subject not many days ago.  Nothing turns out as
+one expects.  There have been no hot pursuits, no rewards offered, no
+bills posted, no printed placards issued describing the beauty and charms
+of a young person who supposed herself the cynosure of every eye.  Heigh-
+ho!  What does it matter, after all?  One can always be a Goose Girl!
+
+* * *
+
+I wonder if the hen mother is quite, quite satisfied with her ducklings!
+Do you suppose the fact of hatching and brooding them breaks down all the
+sense of difference?  Does she not sometimes reflect that if her children
+were the ordinary sort, and not these changelings, she would be enjoying
+certain pretty little attentions dear to a mother's heart?  The chicks
+would be pecking the food off her broad beak with their tiny ones, and
+jumping on her back to slide down her glossy feathers.  They would be far
+nicer to cuddle, too, so small and graceful and light; the changelings
+are a trifle solid and brawny.  And personally, just as a matter of
+taste, would she not prefer wee, round, glancing heads, and pointed
+beaks, peeping from under her wings, to these teaspoon-shaped things
+larger than her own?  I wonder!
+
+We are training fourteen large young chickens to sit on the perches in
+their new house, instead of huddling together on the floor as has been
+their habit, because we discover rat-holes under the wire flooring
+occasionally, and fear that toes may be bitten.  At nine o'clock Phoebe
+and I lift the chickens one by one, and, as it were, glue them to their
+perches, squawking.  Three nights have we gone patiently through with
+this performance, but they have not learned the lesson.  The ducks and
+geese are, however, greatly improved by the application of advanced
+educational methods, and the _regime_ of perfect order and system
+instituted by Me begins to show results.
+
+There is no more violent splashing and pebbling, racing, chasing,
+separating.  The pole, indeed, still has to be produced, but at the first
+majestic wave of my hand they scuttle toward the shore.  The geese turn
+to the right, cross the rickyard, and go to their pen; the May ducks turn
+to the left for their coops, the June ducks follow the hens to the top
+meadow, and even the idiot gosling has an inspiration now and then and
+stumbles on his own habitation.
+
+Mrs. Heaven has no reverence for the principles of Comenius, Pestalozzi,
+or Herbert Spencer as applied to poultry, and when the ducks and geese
+came out of the pond badly the other night and went waddling and tumbling
+and hissing all over creation, did not approve of my sending them back
+into the pond to start afresh.
+
+"I consider it a great waste of time, of good time, miss," she said;
+"and, after all, do you consider that educated poultry will be any better
+eating, or that it will lay more than one egg a day, miss?"
+
+I have given the matter some attention, and I fear Mrs. Heaven is right.
+A duck, a goose, or a hen in which I have developed a larger brain,
+implanted a sense of duty, or instilled an idea of self-government, is
+likely, on the whole, to be leaner, not fatter.  There is nothing like
+obeying the voice of conscience for taking the flesh off one's bones;
+and, speaking of conscience, Phoebe, whose metaphysics are of the farm
+farmy, says that hers "felt like a hunlaid hegg for dyes" after she had
+jilted the postman.
+
+As to the eggs, I am sure the birds will go on laying one a day for 'tis
+their nature to.  Whether the product of the intelligent, conscious,
+logical fowl, will be as rich in quality as that of the uneducated and
+barbaric bird, I cannot say; but it ought at least to be equal to the
+Denmark egg eaten now by all Londoners; and if, perchance, left uneaten,
+it is certain to be a very superior wife and mother.
+
+While we are discussing the subject of educating poultry, I confess that
+the case of Cannibal Ann gives me much anxiety.  Twice in her short
+career has she been under suspicion of eating her own eggs, but Phoebe
+has never succeeded in catching her _in flagrante delicto_.  That eminent
+detective service was reserved for me, and I have been haunted by the
+picture ever since.  It is an awful sight to witness a hen gulp her own
+newly-laid fresh egg, yolk, white, shell, and all; to realise that you
+have fed, sheltered, chased, and occasionally run in, a being possessed
+of no moral sense, a being likely to set a bad example, inculcate vicious
+habits among her innocent sisters, and lower the standard of an entire
+poultry-yard.  _The Young Poultry Keeper's Friend_ gives us no advice on
+this topic, and we do not know whether to treat Cannibal Ann as the
+victim of a disease, or as a confirmed criminal; whether to administer
+remedies or cut her off in the flower of her youth.
+
+We have had a sad scene to-night.  A chick has been ailing all day, and
+when we shut up the brood we found him dead in a corner.
+
+Phoebe put him on the ground while she busied herself about the coop.  The
+other chicks came out and walked about the dead one again and again,
+eyeing him curiously.
+
+"Poor little chap!" said Phoebe.  "'E's never 'ad a mother!  'E was an
+incubytor chicken, and wherever I took 'im 'e was picked at.  There was
+somethink wrong with 'im; 'e never was a fyvorite!"
+
+I put the fluffy body into a hole in the turf, and strewed a handful of
+grass over him.  "Sad little epitaph!" I thought.  "He never was a
+fyvorite!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+July 13th.
+
+I like to watch the Belgian hares eating their trifolium or pea-pods or
+grass; graceful, gentle things they are, crowding about Mr. Heaven, and
+standing prettily, not greedily, on their hind legs, to reach for the
+clover, their delicate nostrils and whiskers all a-quiver with
+excitement.
+
+As I look out of my window in the dusk I can see one of the mothers
+galloping across the enclosure, the soft white lining of her tail acting
+as a beacon-light to the eight infant hares following her, a quaint
+procession of eight white spots in it glancing line.  In the darkest
+night those baby creatures could follow their mother through grass or
+hedge or thicket, and she would need no warning note to show them where
+to flee in case of danger.  "All you have to do is to follow the white
+night-light that I keep in the lining of my tail," she says, when she is
+giving her first maternal lectures; and it seems a beneficent provision
+of Nature.  To be sure, Mr. Heaven took his gun and went out to shoot
+wild rabbits to-day, and I noted that he marked them by those same self-
+betraying tails, as they scuttled toward their holes or leaped toward the
+protecting cover of the hedge; so it does not appear whether Nature is on
+the side of the farmer or the rabbit . . .
+
+There is as much comedy and as much tragedy in poultry life as anywhere,
+and already I see rifts within lutes.  We have in a cage a French
+gentleman partridge married to a Hungarian lady of defective sight.  He
+paces back and forth in the pen restlessly, anything but content with the
+domestic fireside.  One can see plainly that he is devoted to the
+Boulevards, and that if left to his own inclinations he would never have
+chosen any spouse but a thorough Parisienne.
+
+The Hungarian lady is blind of one eye, from some stray shot, I suppose.
+She is melancholy at all times, and occasionally goes so far as to beat
+her head against the wire netting.  If liberated, Mr. Heaven says that
+her blindness would only expose her to death at the hands of the first
+sportsman, and it always seems to me as if she knows this, and is ever
+trying to decide whether a loveless marriage is any better than the tomb.
+
+Then, again, the great, grey gander is, for some mysterious reason, out
+of favour with the entire family.  He is a noble and amiable bird, by far
+the best all-round character in the flock, for dignity of mien and large-
+minded common-sense.  What is the treatment vouchsafed to this blameless
+husband and father?  One that puts anybody out of sorts with virtue and
+its scant rewards.  To begin with, the others will not allow him to go
+into the pond.  There is an organised cabal against it, and he sits
+solitary on the bank, calm and resigned, but, naturally, a trifle hurt.
+His favourite retreat is a tiny sort of island on the edge of the pool
+under the alders, where with his bent head, and red-rimmed philosophic
+eyes he regards his own breast and dreams of happier days.  When the
+others walk into the country twenty-three of them keep together, and Burd
+Alane (as I have named him from the old ballad) walks by himself.  The
+lack of harmony is so evident here, and the slight so intentional and
+direct, that it almost moves me to tears.  The others walk soberly,
+always in couples, but even Burd Alane's rightful spouse is on the side
+of the majority, and avoids her consort.
+
+What is the nature of his offence?  There can be no connubial jealousies,
+I judge, as geese are strictly monogamous, and having chosen a partner of
+their joys and sorrows they cleave to each other until death or some
+other inexorable circumstance does them part.  If they are ever mistaken
+in their choice, and think they might have done better, the world is none
+the wiser.  Burd Alane looks in good condition, but Phoebe thinks he is
+not quite himself, and that some day when he is in greater strength he
+will turn on his foes and rend them, regaining thus his lost prestige,
+for formerly he was king of the flock.
+
+* * *
+
+Phoebe has not a vestige of sentiment.  She just asked me if I would have
+a duckling or a gosling for dinner; that there were two quite ready--the
+brown and yellow duckling, that is the last to leave the water at night,
+and the white gosling that never knows his own 'ouse.  Which would I
+'ave, and would I 'ave it with sage and onion?
+
+Now, had I found a duckling on the table at dinner I should have eaten it
+without thinking at all, or with the thought that it had come from
+Barbury Green.  But eat a duckling that I have stoned out of the pond,
+pursued up the bank, chased behind the wire netting, caught, screaming,
+in a corner, and carried struggling to his bed?  Feed upon an idiot
+gosling that I have found in nine different coops on nine successive
+nights--in with the newly-hatched chicks, the half-grown pullets, the
+setting hen, the "invaleed goose," the drake with the gapes, the old
+ducks in the pen?--Eat a gosling that I have caught and put in with his
+brothers and sisters (whom he never recognises) so frequently and
+regularly that I am familiar with every joint in his body?
+
+In the first place, with my own small bump of locality and lack of
+geography, I would never willingly consume a creature who might, by some
+strange process of assimilation, make me worse in this respect; in the
+second place, I should have to be ravenous indeed to sit down
+deliberately and make a meal of an intimate friend, no matter if I had
+not a high opinion of his intelligence.  I should as soon think of eating
+the Square Baby, stuffed with sage and onion and garnished with green
+apple-sauce, as the yellow duckling or the idiot gosling.
+
+Mrs. Heaven has just called me into her sitting-room, ostensibly to ask
+me to order breakfast, but really for the pleasure of conversation.  Why
+she should inquire whether I would relish some gammon of bacon with eggs,
+when she knows that there has not been, is not now, and never will be,
+anything but gammon of bacon with eggs, is more than I can explain.
+
+"Would you like to see my flowers, miss?" she asks, folding her plump
+hands over her white apron.  "They are looking beautiful this morning.  I
+am so fond of potted plants, of plants in pots.  Look at these geraniums!
+Now, I consider that pink one a perfect bloom; yes, a perfect bloom.  This
+is a fine red one, is it not, miss?  Especially fine, don't you think?
+The trouble with the red variety is that they're apt to get "bobby" and
+have to be washed regularly; quite bobby they do get indeed, I assure
+you.  That white one has just gone out of blossom, and it was really
+wonderful.  You could 'ardly have told it from a paper flower, miss, not
+from a white paper flower.  My plants are my children nowadays, since
+Albert Edward is my only care.  I have been the mother of eleven
+children, miss, all of them living, so far as I know; I know nothing to
+the contrary.  I 'ope you are not wearying of this solitary place, miss?
+It will grow upon you, I am sure, as it did upon Mrs. Pollock, with all
+her peculiar fancies, and as it 'as grown upon us.--We formerly had a
+butcher's shop in Buffington, and it was naturally a great
+responsibility.  Mr. Heaven's nerves are not strong, and at last he
+wanted a life of more quietude, more quietude was what he craved.  The
+life of a retail butcher is a most exciting and wearying one.  Nobody
+satisfied with their meat; as if it mattered in a world of change!
+Everybody complaining of too much bone or too little fat; nobody wishing
+tough chops or cutlets, but always seeking after fine joints, when it's
+against reason and nature that all joints should be juicy and all cutlets
+tender; always complaining if livers are not sent with every fowl, always
+asking you to remember the trimmin's, always wanting their beef well
+'ung, and then if you 'ang it a minute too long, it's left on your 'ands!
+I often used to say to Mr. Heaven, yes many's the time I've said it, that
+if people would think more of the great 'ereafter and less about their
+own little stomachs, it would be a deal better for them, yes, a deal
+better, and make it much more comfortable for the butchers!"
+
+* * *
+
+Burd Alane has had a good quarter of an hour to-day.
+
+His spouse took a brief promenade with him.  To be sure, it was during an
+absence of the flock on the other side of the hedge so that the moral
+effect of her spasm of wifely loyalty was quite lost upon them.  I
+strongly suspect that she would not have granted anything but a secret
+interview.  What a petty, weak, ignoble character!  I really don't like
+to think so badly of any fellow-creature as I am forced to think of that
+politic, time-serving, pusillanimous goose.  I believe she laid the egg
+that produced the idiot gosling!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+Here follows the true story of Sir Muscovy Drake, the Lady Blanche, and
+Miss Malardina Crippletoes.
+
+Phoebe's flock consisted at first mostly of Brown Mallards, but a friend
+gave her a sitting of eggs warranted to produce a most beautiful variety
+of white ducks.  They were hatched in due time, but proved hard to raise,
+till at length there was only one survivor, of such uncommon grace and
+beauty that we called her the Lady Blanche.  Presently a neighbour sold
+Phoebe his favourite Muscovy drake, and these two splendid creatures by
+"natural selection" disdained to notice the rest of the flock, but
+forming a close friendship, wandered in the pleasant paths of duckdom
+together, swimming and eating quite apart from the others.
+
+In the brown flock there was one unfortunate, misshapen from the egg,
+quite lame, and with no smoothness of plumage; but on that very account,
+apparently, or because she was too weak to resist them, the others
+treated her cruelly, biting her and pushing her away from the food.
+
+One day it happened that the two ducks--Sir Muscovy and Lady Blanche--had
+come up from the water before the others, and having taken their repast
+were sitting together under the shade of a flowering currant-bush, when
+they chanced to see poor Miss Crippletoes very badly used and crowded
+away from the dish.  Sir Muscovy rose to his feet; a few rapid words
+seemed to pass between him and his mate, and then he fell upon the other
+drake and the heartless minions who had persecuted the helpless one,
+drove them far away out of sight, and, returning, went to the corner
+where the victim was cowering, her face to the wall.  He seemed to
+whisper to her, or in some way to convey to her a sense of protection;
+for after a few moments she tremblingly went with him to the dish, and
+hurriedly ate her dinner while he stood by, repulsing the advances of the
+few brown ducks who remained near and seemed inclined to attack her.
+
+When she had eaten enough Lady Blanche joined them, and they went down
+the hill together to their favourite swimming-place.  After that Miss
+Crippletoes always followed a little behind her protectors, and thus
+shielded and fed she grew stronger and well-feathered, though she was
+always smaller than she should have been and had a lowly manner, keeping
+a few steps in the rear of her superiors and sitting at some distance
+from their noon resting-place.
+
+Phoebe noticed after a while that Lady Blanche was seldom to be seen, and
+Sir Muscovy and Miss Crippletoes often came to their meals without her.
+The would-be mother refused to inhabit the house Phoebe had given her,
+and for a long time the place she had chosen for her sitting could not be
+found.  At length the Square Baby discovered her in a most ideal spot.  A
+large boulder had dropped years ago into the brook that fills our duck-
+pond; dropped and split in halves with the two smooth walls leaning away
+from each other.  A grassy bank towered behind, and on either side of the
+opening, tall bushes made a miniature forest where the romantic mother
+could brood her treasures while her two guardians enjoyed the water close
+by her retreat.
+
+All this happened before my coming to Thornycroft Farm, but it was I who
+named the hero and heroines of the romance when Phoebe had told me all
+the particulars.  Yesterday morning I was sitting by my open window.  It
+was warm, sunny, and still, but in the country sounds travel far, and I
+could hear fowl conversation in various parts of the poultry-yard as well
+as in all the outlying bits of territory occupied by our feathered
+friends.  Hens have only three words and a scream in their language, but
+ducks, having more thoughts to express, converse quite fluently, so
+fluently, in fact, that it reminds me of dinner at the Hydropathic Hotel.
+I fancy I have learned to distinguish seven separate sounds, each varied
+by degrees of intensity, and with upward or downward inflections like the
+Chinese tongue.
+
+In the distance, then, I heard the faint voice of a duck calling as if
+breathless and excited.  While I wondered what was happening, I saw Miss
+Crippletoes struggling up the steep bank above the duck-pond.  It was the
+quickest way from the water to the house, but difficult for the little
+lame webbed feet.  When she reached the level grass sward she sank down a
+moment, exhausted; but when she could speak again she cried out, a sharp
+staccato call, and ran forward.
+
+Instantly she was answered from a distant knoll, where for some reason
+Sir Muscovy loved to retire for meditation.  The cries grew lower and
+softer as the birds approached each other, and they met at the corner
+just under my window.  Instantly they put their two bills together and
+the loud cries changed to confiding murmurs.  Evidently some hurried
+questions and answers passed between them, and then Sir Muscovy waddled
+rapidly by the quickest path, Miss Crippletoes following him at a slower
+pace, and both passed out of sight, using their wings to help their feet
+down the steep declivity.  The next morning, when I wakened early, my
+first thought was to look out, and there on the sunny greensward where
+they were accustomed to be fed, Sir Muscovy, Lady Blanche, and their
+humble maid, Malardina Crippletoes, were scattering their own breakfast
+before the bills of twelve beautiful golden balls of ducklings.  The
+little creatures could never have climbed the bank, but must have started
+from their nest at dawn, coming round by the brook to the level at the
+foot of the garden, and so by slow degrees up to the house.
+
+Judging from what I heard and knew of their habits, I am sure the
+excitement of the previous morning was occasioned by the hatching of the
+eggs, and that Lady Blanche had hastily sent her friend to call Sir
+Muscovy, the family remaining together until they could bring the babies
+with them and display their beauty to Phoebe and me.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+July 14th.
+
+We are not wholly without the pleasures of the town in Barbury Green.
+Once or twice in a summer, late on a Saturday afternoon, a procession of
+red and yellow vans drives into a field near the centre of the village.
+By the time the vans are unpacked all the children in the community are
+surrounding the gate of entrance.  There is rifle-shooting, there is
+fortune-telling, there are games of pitch and toss, and swings, and
+French bagatelle; and, to crown all, a wonderful orchestrion that goes by
+steam.  The water is boiled for the public's tea, and at the same time
+thrilling strains of melody are flung into the air.  There is at present
+only one tune in the orchestrion's repertory, but it is a very good tune;
+though after hearing it three hundred and seven times in a single
+afternoon, it pursues one, sleeping and waking, for the next week.  Phoebe
+and I took the Square Baby and went in to this diversified entertainment.
+There was a small crowd of children at the entrance, but as none of them
+seemed to be provided with pennies, and I felt in a fairy godmother mood,
+I offered them the freedom of the place at my expense.
+
+I never purchased more radiant good-will for less money, but the combined
+effect of the well-boiled tea and the boiling orchestrion produced many
+village nightmares, so the mothers told me at chapel next morning.
+
+* * *
+
+I have many friends in Barbury Green, and often have a pleasant chat with
+the draper, and the watchmaker, and the chemist.
+
+The last house on the principal street is rather an ugly one, with
+especially nice window curtains.  As I was taking my daily walk to the
+post-office (an entirely unfruitful expedition thus far, as nobody has
+taken the pains to write to me) I saw a nursemaid coming out of the gate,
+wheeling a baby in a perambulator.  She was going placidly away from the
+Green when, far in the distance, she espied a man walking rapidly toward
+us, a heavy Gladstone bag in one hand.  She gazed fixedly for a moment,
+her eyes brightening and her cheeks flushing with pleasure,--whoever it
+was, it was an unexpected arrival;--then she retraced her steps and,
+running up the garden-path, opened the front door and held an excited
+colloquy with somebody; a slender somebody in a nice print gown and
+neatly-dressed hair, who came to the gate and peeped beyond the hedge
+several times, drawing back between peeps with smiles and heightened
+colour.  She did not run down the road, even when she had satisfied
+herself of the identity of the traveller; perhaps that would not have
+been good form in an English village, for there were houses on the
+opposite side of the way.  She waited until he opened the gate, the
+nursemaid took the bag and looked discreetly into the hedge, then the
+mistress slipped her hand through the traveller's arm and walked up the
+path as if she had nothing else in the world to wish for.  The nurse had
+a part in the joy, for she lifted the baby out of the perambulator and
+showed proudly how much he had grown.
+
+It was a dear little scene, and I, a passer-by, had shared in it and felt
+better for it.  I think their content was no less because part of it had
+enriched my life, for happiness, like mercy, is twice blessed; it blesses
+those who are most intimately associated in it, and it blesses all those
+who see it, hear it, feel it, touch it, or breathe the same atmosphere.  A
+laughing, crowing baby in a house, one cheerful woman singing about her
+work, a boy whistling at the plough, a romance just suspected, with its
+miracle of two hearts melting into one--the wind's always in the west
+when you have any of these wonder-workers in your neighbourhood.
+
+I have talks too, sometimes, with the old parson, who lives in a quaint
+house with "_Parva Domus Magna Quies_" cut into the stone over the
+doorway.  He is not a preaching parson, but a retired one, almost the
+nicest kind, I often think.
+
+He has been married thirty years, he tells me; thirty years, spent in the
+one little house with the bricks painted red and grey alternately, and
+the scarlet holly-hocks growing under the windows.  I am sure they have
+been sweet, true, kind years, and that his heart must be a quiet,
+peaceful place just like his house and garden.
+
+"I was only eleven years old when I fell in love with my wife," he told
+me as we sat on the seat under the lime-tree; he puffing cosily at his
+pipe, I plaiting grasses for a hatband.
+
+"It was just before Sunday-school.  Her mother had dressed her all in
+white muslin like a fairy, but she had stepped on the edge of a puddle,
+and some of the muddy water had bespattered her frock.  A circle of
+children had surrounded her, and some of the motherly little girls were
+on their knees rubbing at the spots anxiously, while one of them wiped
+away the tears that were running down her pretty cheeks.  I looked!  It
+was fatal!  I did not look again, but I was smitten to the very heart!  I
+did not speak to her for six years, but when I did, it was all right with
+both of us, thank God! and I've been in love with her ever since, when
+she behaves herself!"
+
+That is the way they speak of love in Barbury Green, and oh! how much
+sweeter and more wholesome it is than the language of the town!  Who
+would not be a Goose Girl, "to win the secret of the weed's plain heart"?
+It seems to me that in society we are always gazing at magic-lantern
+shows, but here we rest our tired eyes with looking at the stars.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+July 16th.
+
+Phoebe and I have been to a Hen Conference at Buffington.  It was for the
+purpose of raising the standard of the British Hen, and our local
+Countess, who is much interested in poultry, was in the chair.
+
+It was a very learned body, but Phoebe had coached me so well that at the
+noon recess I could talk confidently with the members, discussing the
+various advantages of True and Crossed Minorcas, Feverels, Andalusians,
+Cochin Chinas, Shanghais, and the White Leghorn.  (Phoebe, when she
+pronounces this word, leaves out the "h" and bears down heavily on the
+last syllable, so that it rhymes with begone!)
+
+As I was sitting under the trees waiting for Phoebe to finish some
+shopping in the village, a travelling poultry-dealer came along and
+offered to sell me a silver Wyandotte pullet and cockerel.  This was a
+new breed to me and I asked the price, which proved to be more than I
+should pay for a hat in Bond Street.  I hesitated, thinking meantime what
+a delightful parting gift they would be for Phoebe; I mean if we ever
+should part, which seems more and more unlikely, as I shall never leave
+Thornycroft until somebody comes properly to fetch me; indeed, unless the
+"fetching" is done somewhat speedily I may decline to go under any
+circumstances.  My indecision as to the purchase was finally banished
+when the poultryman asserted that the fowls had clear open centres all
+over, black lacing entirely round the white centres, were free from white
+edging, and each had a cherry-red eye.  This catalogue of charms inflamed
+my imagination, though it gave me no mental picture of a silver Wyandotte
+fowl, and I paid the money while the dealer crammed the chicks, squawking
+into my five-o'clock tea-basket.
+
+The afternoon session of the conference was most exciting, for we reached
+the subject of imported eggs, an industry that is assuming terrifying
+proportions.  The London hotel egg comes from Denmark, it seems,--I
+should think by sailing vessel, not steamer, but I may be wrong.  After
+we had settled that the British Hen should be protected and encouraged,
+and agreed solemnly to abstain from Danish eggs in any form, and made a
+resolution stating that our loyalty to Queen Alexandra would remain
+undiminished, we argued the subject of hen diet.  There was a great
+difference of opinion here and the discussion was heated; the honorary
+treasurer standing for pulped mangold and flint grit, the chair insisting
+on barley meal and randans, while one eloquent young woman declared, to
+loud cries of "'Ear, 'ear!" that rice pudding and bone chips produce more
+eggs to the square hen than any other sort of food.  Impassioned orators
+arose here and there in the audience demanding recognition for beef
+scraps, charcoal, round corn or buckwheat.  Foods were regarded from
+various standpoints: as general invigorators, growth assisters, and egg
+producers.  A very handsome young farmer carried off final honours, and
+proved to the satisfaction of all the feminine poultry-raisers that green
+young hog bones fresh cut in the Banner Bone Breaker (of which he was the
+agent) possessed a nutritive value not to be expressed in human language.
+
+Phoebe was distinctly nervous when I rose to say a few words on poultry
+breeding, announcing as my topic "Mothers, Stepmothers, Foster-Mothers,
+and Incubators."  Protected by the consciousness that no one in the
+assemblage could possibly know me, I made a distinct success in my maiden
+speech; indeed, I somewhat overshot the mark, for the Countess in the
+chair sent me a note asking me to dine with her that evening.  I
+suppressed the note and took Phoebe away before the proceedings were
+finished, vanishing from the scene of my triumphs like a veiled prophet.
+
+Just as we were passing out the door we paused to hear the report of a
+special committee whose chairman read the following resolutions:--
+
+_Whereas_,--It has pleased the Almighty to remove from our midst our
+greatest Rose Comb Buff Orpington fancier and esteemed friend, Albert
+Edward Sheridain; therefore be it
+
+_Resolved_,--That the next edition of our catalogue contain an
+illustrated memorial page in his honour and
+
+_Resolved_,--That the Rose Comb Buff Orpington Club extend to the
+bereaved family their heartfelt sympathy.
+
+The handsome young farmer followed us out to our trap, invited us to
+attend the next meeting of the R. C. B. O. Club, of which he was the
+secretary, and asked if I were intending to "show."  I introduced Phoebe
+as the senior partner, and she concealed the fact that we possessed but
+one Buff Orpington, and he was a sad "invaleed" not suitable for
+exhibition.  The farmer's expression as he looked at me was almost lover-
+like, and when he pressed a bit of paper into my hand I was sure it must
+be an offer of marriage.  It was in fact only a circular describing the
+Banner Bone Breaker.  It closed with an appeal to Buff Orpington breeders
+to raise and ever raise the standard, bidding them remember, in the midst
+of a low-minded and sordid civilisation, that the rose comb should be
+small and neat, firmly set on, with good working, a nice spike at the
+back lying well down to head, and never, under any circumstances, never
+sticking up.  This adjuration somewhat alarmed us as Phoebe and I had
+been giving our Buff Orpington cockerel the most drastic remedies for his
+languid and prostrate comb.
+
+Coming home we alighted from the trap to gather hogweed for the rabbits.
+I sat by the wayside lazily and let Phoebe gather the appetising weed,
+which grows along the thorniest hedges in close proximity to nettles and
+thistles.
+
+Workmen were trudging along with their luncheon-baskets of woven
+bulrushes slung over their shoulders.  Fields of ripening grain lay on
+either hand, the sun shining on their every shade of green and yellow,
+bronze and orange, while the breeze stirred the bearded barley into a
+rippling golden sea.
+
+Phoebe asked me if the people I had left behind at the Hydropathic were
+my relatives.
+
+"Some of them are of remote consanguinity," I responded evasively, and
+the next question was hushed upon her awe-stricken tongue, as I intended.
+
+"They are obeying my wish to be let alone, there's no doubt of that," I
+was thinking.  "For my part, I like a little more spirit, and a little
+less 'letter'!"
+
+As the word "letter" flitted through my thoughts, I pulled one from my
+pocket and glanced through it carelessly.  It arrived, somewhat tardily,
+only last night, or I should not have had it with me.  I wore the same
+dress to the post-office yesterday that I wore to the Hen Conference to-
+day, and so it chanced to be still in the pocket.  If it had been
+anything I valued, of course I should have lost or destroyed it by
+mistake; it is only silly, worthless little things like this that keep
+turning up and turning up after one has forgotten their existence.
+
+   "You are a mystery!" [it ran.]  "I can apprehend, but not comprehend
+   you.  I know you in part.  I understand various bits of your nature;
+   but my knowledge is always fragmentary and disconnected, and when I
+   attempt to make a whole of the mosaics I merely get a kaleidoscopic
+   effect.  Do you know those geographical dissected puzzles that they
+   give to children?  You remind me of one of them.
+
+   "I have spent many charming (and dangerous) hours trying to 'put you
+   together'; but I find, when I examine my picture closely, that after
+   all I've made a purple mountain grow out of a green tree; that my
+   river is running up a steep hillside; and that the pretty milkmaid,
+   who should be wandering in the forest, is standing on her head with
+   her pail in the air
+
+   "Do you understand yourself clearly?  Or is it just possible that when
+   you dive to the depths of your own consciousness, you sometimes find
+   the pretty milkmaid standing on her head?  I wonder!" . . .
+
+Ah, well, it is no wonder that he wonders!   So do I, for that matter!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+July 17th.
+
+Thornycroft Farm seems to be the musical centre of the universe.
+
+When I wake very early in the morning I lie in a drowsy sort of dream,
+trying to disentangle, one from the other, the various bird notes,
+trills, coos, croons, chirps, chirrups, and warbles.  Suddenly there
+falls on the air a delicious, liquid, finished song; so pure, so mellow,
+so joyous, that I go to the window and look out at the morning world,
+half awakened, like myself.
+
+There is I know not what charm in a window that does not push up, but
+opens its lattices out into the greenness.  And mine is like a little
+jewelled door, for the sun is shining from behind the chimneys and
+lighting the tiny diamond panes with amber flashes.
+
+A faint delicate haze lies over the meadow, and rising out of it, and
+soaring toward the blue is the lark, flinging out that matchless matin
+song, so rich, so thrilling, so lavish!  As the blithe melody fades away,
+I hear the plaintive ballad-fragments of the robin on a curtsying branch
+near my window; and there is always the liquid pipe of the thrush, who
+must quaff a fairy goblet of dew between his songs, I should think, so
+fresh and eternally young is his note.
+
+There is another beautiful song that I follow whenever I hear it,
+straining my eyes to the treetops, yet never finding a bird that I can
+identify as the singer.  Can it be the--
+
+   "Ousel-cock so black of hue,
+   With orange-tawny bill"?
+
+He is called the poet-laureate of the primrose time, but I don't know
+whether he sings in midsummer, and I have not seen him hereabouts.  I
+must write and ask my dear Man of the North.  The Man of the North, I
+sometimes think, had a Fairy Grandmother who was a robin; and perhaps she
+made a nest of fresh moss and put him in the green wood when he was a wee
+bairnie, so that he waxed wise in bird-lore without knowing it.  At all
+events, describe to him the cock of a head, the glance of an eye, the tip-
+up of a tail, or the sheen of a feather, and he will name you the bird.
+Near-sighted he is, too, the Man of the North, but that is only for
+people.
+
+The Square Baby and I have a new game.
+
+I bought a doll's table and china tea-set in Buffington.  We put it under
+an apple-tree in the side garden, where the scarlet lightning grows so
+tall and the Madonna lilies stand so white against the flaming
+background.  We built a little fence around it, and every afternoon at
+tea-time we sprinkle seeds and crumbs in the dishes, water in the tiny
+cups, drop a cherry in each of the fruit-plates, and have a _the
+chantant_ for the birdies.  We sometimes invite an "invaleed" duckling,
+or one of the baby rabbits, or the peacock, in which case the cards
+read:--
+
+   Thornycroft Farm.
+   The pleasure of your company is requested
+   at a
+   The Chantant
+   Under the Apple Tree.
+   Music at five.
+
+It is a charming game, as I say, but I'd far rather play it with the Man
+of the North; he is so much younger than the Square Baby, and so much
+more responsive, too.
+
+Thornycroft Farm is a sweet place, too, of odours as well as sounds.  The
+scent of the hay is for ever in the nostrils, the hedges are thick with
+wild honeysuckle, so deliciously fragrant, the last of the June roses are
+lingering to do their share, and blackberry blossoms and ripening fruit
+as well.
+
+I have never known a place in which it is so easy to be good.  I have not
+said a word, nor scarcely harboured a thought, that was not lovely and
+virtuous since I entered these gates, and yet there are those who think
+me fantastic, difficult, hard to please, unreasonable!
+
+I believe the saints must have lived in the country mostly (I am certain
+they never tried Hydropathic hotels), and why anybody with a black heart
+and natural love of wickedness should not simply buy a poultry farm and
+become an angel, I cannot understand.
+
+Living with animals is really a very improving and wholesome kind of
+life, to the person who will allow himself to be influenced by their
+sensible and high-minded ideals.  When you come to think about it, man is
+really the only animal that ever makes a fool of himself; the others are
+highly civilised, and never make mistakes.  I am going to mention this
+when I write to somebody, sometime; I mean if I ever do.  To be sure, our
+human life is much more complicated than theirs, and I believe when the
+other animals notice our errors of judgment they make allowances.  The
+bee is as busy as a bee, and the beaver works like a beaver, but there
+their responsibility ends.  The bee doesn't have to go about seeing that
+other bees are not crowded into unsanitary tenements or victimised by the
+sweating system.  When the beaver's day of toil is over he doesn't have
+to discuss the sphere, the rights, or the voting privileges of
+beaveresses; all he has to do is to work like a beaver, and that is
+comparatively simple.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+I have been studying _The Young Poultry Keeper's Friend_ of late.  If
+there is anything I dislike and deplore, it is the possession of
+knowledge which I cannot put to practical use.  Having discovered an
+interesting disease called Scaly Leg in the July number, I took the
+magazine out into the poultry-yard and identified the malady on three
+hens and a cock.  Phoebe joined me in the diagnosis and we treated the
+victims with a carbolic lotion and scrubbed them with vaseline.
+
+As Phoebe and I grow wise in medical lore the case of Cannibal Ann
+assumes a different aspect.  As the bibulous man quaffs more and more
+flagons of beer and wine when his daily food is ham, salt fish, and
+cabbage, so does the hen avenge her wrongs of diet and woes of
+environment.  Cannibal Ann, herself, has, so far as we know, been raised
+in a Christian manner and enjoyed all the advantages of modern methods;
+but her maternal parent may have lived in some heathen poultry-yard which
+was asphalted or bricked or flagged, so that she was debarred from
+scratching in Mother Earth and was forced to eat her own shells in self-
+defence.
+
+* * *
+
+The Square Baby is not particularly attracted by the poultry as a whole,
+save when it is boiled with bacon or roasted with bread-sauce; but he is
+much interested in the "invaleeds."  Whenever Phoebe and I start for the
+hospital with the tobacco-pills, the tin of paraffin, and the bottle of
+oil, he is very much in evidence.  Perhaps he has a natural leaning
+toward the medical profession; at any rate, when pain and anguish wring
+the brow, he is in close attendance upon the ministering angels.
+
+Now it is necessary for the physician to have practice as well as theory,
+so the Square Baby, being left to himself this afternoon, proceeded to
+perfect himself in some of the healing arts used by country
+practitioners.
+
+When discovered, he was seated in front of the wire-covered "run"
+attached to a coop occupied by the youngest goslings.  A couple of
+bottles and a box stood by his side, and I should think he had
+administered a cup of sweet oil, a pint of paraffin, and a quarter of a
+pound of tobacco during his clinic.  He had used the remedies
+impartially, sometimes giving the paraffin internally and rubbing the
+patient's head with tobacco or oil, sometimes the reverse.
+
+Several goslings leaned languidly against the netting, or supported
+themselves by the edge of the water-dish, while others staggered and
+reeled about with eyes half closed.
+
+It was Mrs. Heaven who caught her son red-handed, so to speak.  She was
+dressed in her best, and just driving off to Woodmucket to spend a day or
+two with her married daughter, and soothe her nerves with the uproar
+incident to a town of six hundred inhabitants.  She delayed her journey a
+half-hour--long enough, in fact, to change her black silk waist for a
+loose sacque which would give her arms full and comfortable play.  The
+joy and astonishment that greeted the Square Baby on his advent, five
+years ago, was forgotten for the first time in his brief life, and he was
+treated precisely as any ordinary wrongdoer would have been treated under
+the same circumstances, summarily and smartly; the "wepping," as Phoebe
+would say, being Mrs. Heaven's hand.
+
+All but one of the goslings lived, like thousands of others who recover
+in spite of the doctors, but the Square Baby's interest in the healing
+art is now perceptibly lessened.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+July 18th.
+
+The day was Friday; Phoebe's day to go to Buffington with eggs and
+chickens and rabbits; her day to solicit orders for ducklings and
+goslings.  The village cart was ready in the stable; Mr. and Mrs. Heaven
+were in Woodmucket; I was eating my breakfast (which I remember was an
+egg and a rasher) when Phoebe came in, a figure of woe.
+
+The Square Baby was ill, very ill, and would not permit her to leave him
+and go to market.  Would I look at him?  For he must have dowsed 'imself
+as well as the goslings yesterday; anyways he was strong of paraffin and
+tobacco, though he 'ad 'ad a good barth.
+
+I prescribed for Albert Edward, who was as uncomfortable and feverish as
+any little sinner in the county of Sussex, and I then promptly proposed
+going to Buffington in Phoebe's place.
+
+She did not think it at all proper, and said that, notwithstanding my
+cotton gown and sailor hat, I looked quite, quite the lydy, and it would
+never do.
+
+"I cannot get any new orders," said I, "but I can certainly leave the
+rabbits and eggs at the customary places.  I know Argent's Dining
+Parlours, and Songhurst's Tea Rooms, and the Six Bells Inn, as well as
+you do."
+
+So, donning a pair of Phoebe's large white cotton gloves with open-work
+wrists (than which I always fancy there is no one article that so
+disguises the perfect lydy), I set out upon my travels, upborne by a
+lively sense of amusement that was at least equal to my feeling that I
+was doing Phoebe Heaven a good turn.
+
+Prices in dressed poultry were fluctuating, but I had a copy of _The
+Trade Review_, issued that very day, and was able to get some idea of
+values and the state of the market as I jogged along.  The general
+movement, I learned, was moderate and of a "selective" character.  Choice
+large capons and ducks were in steady demand, but I blushed for my
+profession when I read that roasting chickens were running coarse,
+staggy, and of irregular value.  Old hens were held firmly at sixpence,
+and it is my experience that they always have to be, at whatever price.
+Geese were plenty, dull, and weak.  Old cocks,--why don't they say
+roosters?--declined to threepence ha'penny on Thursday in sympathy with
+fowls,--and who shall say that chivalry is dead?  Turkeys were a trifle
+steadier, and there was a speculative movement in limed eggs.  All this
+was illuminating, and I only wished I were quite certain whether the
+sympathetic old roosters were threepence ha'penny apiece, or a pound.
+
+Everything happened as it should, on this first business journey of my
+life, which is equivalent to saying that nothing happened at all.
+Songhurst's Tea Rooms took five dozen eggs and told me to bring six dozen
+the next week.  Argent's Dining Parlours purchased three pairs of
+chickens and four rabbits.  The Six Bells found the last poultry somewhat
+tough and tasteless; whereupon I said that our orders were more than we
+could possibly fill, still I hoped we could go on "selling them," as we
+never liked to part with old customers, no matter how many new ones there
+were.  Privately, I understood the complaint only too well, for I knew
+the fowls in question very intimately.  Two of them were the runaway
+rooster and the gadabout hen that never wanted to go to bed with the
+others.  The third was Cannibal Ann.  I should have expected them to be
+tough, but I cannot believe they were lacking in flavour.
+
+The only troublesome feature of the trip was that Mrs. Sowerbutt's
+lodgers had suddenly left for London and she was unable to take the four
+rabbits as she had hoped; but as an offset to that piece of ill-fortune
+the Coke and Coal Yard and the Bicycle Repairing Rooms came out into the
+street, and, stepping up to the trap, requested regular weekly deliveries
+of eggs and chickens, and hoped that I would be able to bring them
+myself.  And so, in a happy frame of mind, I turned out of the Buffington
+main street, and was jogging along homeward, when a very startling thing
+happened; namely, a whole verse of the Bailiff's Daughter of Islington:--
+
+   "And as she went along the high road,
+   The weather being hot and dry,
+   She sat her down upon a green bank,
+   And her true love came riding by."
+
+That true lovers are given to riding by, in ballads, I know very well,
+but I hardly supposed they did so in real life, especially when every
+precaution had been taken to avert such a catastrophe.  I had told the
+Barbury Green postmistress, on the morning of my arrival, not to give the
+Thornycroft address to anybody whatsoever, but finding, as the days
+passed, that no one was bold enough or sensible enough to ask for it, I
+haughtily withdrew my prohibition.  About this time I began sending
+envelopes, carefully addressed in a feigned hand, to a certain person at
+the Oxenbridge Hydro.  These envelopes contained no word of writing, but
+held, on one day, only a bit of down from a hen's breast, on another, a
+goose-quill, on another, a glossy tail-feather, on another, a grain of
+corn, and so on.  These trifles were regarded by me not as degrading or
+unmaidenly hints and suggestions, but simply as tests of intelligence.
+Could a man receive tokens of this sort and fail to put two and two
+together?  I feel that I might possibly support life with a domineering
+and autocratic husband,--and there is every prospect that I shall be
+called upon to do so,--but not with a stupid one.  Suppose one were
+linked for ever to a man capable of asking,--"Did _you_ send those
+feathers? . . . How was I to guess? . . . How was a fellow to know they
+came from you? . . . What on earth could I suppose they meant? . . . What
+clue did they offer me as to your whereabouts? . . . Am I a Sherlock
+Holmes?"--No, better eternal celibacy than marriage with such a being!
+
+These were the thoughts that had been coursing through my goose-girl mind
+while I had been selling dressed poultry, but in some way they had not
+prepared me for the appearance of the aforesaid true love.
+
+To see the very person whom one has left civilisation to avoid is always
+more or less surprising, and to make the meeting less likely, Buffington
+is even farther from Oxenbridge than Barbury Green.  The creature was
+well mounted (ominous, when he came to override my caprice!) and he
+looked bigger, and, yes, handsomer, though that doesn't signify, and
+still more determined than when I saw him last; although goodness knows
+that timidity and feebleness of purpose were not in striking evidence on
+that memorable occasion.  I had drawn up under the shade of a tree
+ostensibly to eat some cherries, thinking that if I turned my face away I
+might pass unrecognised.  It was a stupid plan, for if I had whipped up
+the mare and driven on, he of course, would have had to follow, and he
+has too much dignity and self-respect to shriek recriminations into a
+woman's ear from a distance.
+
+He approached with deliberation, reined in his horse, and lifted his hat
+ceremoniously.  He has an extremely shapely head, but I did not show that
+the sight of it melted in the least the ice of my resolve; whereupon we
+talked, not very freely at first,--men are so stiff when they consider
+themselves injured.  However, silence is even more embarrassing than
+conversation, so at length I begin:--
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"It is a lovely day."
+
+_True Love_.--"Yes, but the drought is getting rather oppressive, don't
+you think?"
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"The crops certainly need rain, and the feed is
+becoming scarce."
+
+_True Love_.--"Are you a farmer's wife?"
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"Oh no! that is a promotion to look forward to; I
+am now only a Goose Girl."
+
+_True Love_.--"Indeed!  If I wished to be severe I might remark: that I
+am sure you have found at last your true vocation!"
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"It was certainly through no desire to please
+_you_ that I chose it."
+
+_True Love_.--"I am quite sure of that!  Are you staying in this part?"
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"Oh no!  I live many miles distant, over an
+extremely rough road.  And you?"
+
+_True Love_.--"I am still at the Hydropathic; or at least my luggage is
+there."
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"It must be very pleasant to attract you so long."
+
+_True Love_.--"Not so pleasant as it was."
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"No?  A new proprietor, I suppose."
+
+_True Love_.--"No; same proprietor; but the house is empty."
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_ (yawning purposely).--"That is strange; the hotels
+are usually so full at this season.  Why did so many leave?"
+
+_True Love_.--"As a matter of fact, only one left.  'Full' and 'empty'
+are purely relative terms.  I call a hotel full when it has you in it,
+empty when it hasn't."
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_ (dying to laugh, but concealing her feelings).--"I
+trust my bulk does not make the same impression on the general public!
+Well, I won't detain you longer; good afternoon; I must go home to my
+evening work."
+
+_True Love_.--"I will accompany you."
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"If you are a gentleman you will remain where you
+are."
+
+_True Love_.--"In the road?  Perhaps; but if I am a man I shall follow
+you; they always do, I notice.  What are those foolish bundles in the
+back of that silly cart?"
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"Feed for the pony, please, sir; fish for dinner;
+randans and barley meal for the poultry; and four unsold rabbits.
+Wouldn't you like them?  Only one and sixpence apiece.  Shot at three
+o'clock this morning."
+
+_True Love_.--"Thanks; I don't like mine shot so early."
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"Oh, well! doubtless I shall be able to dispose of
+them on my way home, though times is 'ard!"
+
+_True Love_.--"Do you mean that you will "peddle" them along the road?"
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"You understand me better than usual,--in fact to
+perfection."
+
+He dismounts and strides to the back of the cart, lifts the covers,
+seizes the rabbits, flings some silver contemptuously into the basket,
+and looks about him for a place to bury his bargain.  A small boy
+approaching in the far distance will probably bag the game.
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_ (modestly).--"Thanks for your trade, sir, rather
+ungraciously bestowed, and we 'opes for a continuance of your past
+fyvors."
+
+_True Love_ (leaning on the wheel of the trap).--"Let us stop this
+nonsense.  What did you hope to gain by running away?"
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"Distance and absence."
+
+_True Love_.--"You knew you couldn't prevent my offering myself to you
+sometime or other."
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"Perhaps not; but I could at least defer it,
+couldn't I?"
+
+_True Love_.--"Why postpone the inevitable?"
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"Doubtless I shrank from giving you the pain of a
+refusal."
+
+_True Love_.--"Perhaps; but do you know what I suspect?"
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"I'm not a suspicious person, thank goodness!"
+
+_True Love_.--"That, on the contrary, you are wilfully withholding from
+me the joy of acceptance."
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"If I intended to accept you, why did I run away?"
+
+_True Love_.--"To make yourself more desirable and precious, I suppose."
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_ (with the most confident coquetry).--"Did I
+succeed?"
+
+_True Love_.--"No; you failed utterly."
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_ (secretly piqued).--"Then I am glad I tried it."
+
+_True Love_.--"You couldn't succeed because you were superlatively
+desirable and precious already; but you should never have experimented.
+Don't you know that Love is a high explosive?"
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"Is it?  Then it ought always to be labelled
+'dangerous,' oughtn't it?  But who thought of suggesting matches?  I'm
+sure I didn't!"
+
+_True Love_.--"No such luck; I wish you would."
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"According to your theory, if you apply a match to
+Love it is likely to 'go off.'"
+
+_True Love_.--"I wish you would try it on mine and await the result.  Come
+now, you'll have to marry somebody, sometime."
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"I confess I don't see the necessity."
+
+_True Love_ (morosely).--"You're the sort of woman men won't leave in
+undisturbed spinsterhood; they'll keep on badgering you."
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"Oh, I don't mind the badgering of a number of
+men; it's rather nice.  It's the one badger I find obnoxious."
+
+_True Love_ (impatiently).--"That's just the perversity of things.  I
+could put a stop to the protestations of the many; I should like nothing
+better--but the pertinacity of the one!  Ah, well!  I can't drop that
+without putting an end to my existence."
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_ (politely).--"I shouldn't think of suggesting
+anything so extreme."
+
+_True Love_ (quoting).--"'Mrs. Hauksbee proceeded to take the conceit out
+of Pluffles as you remove the ribs of an umbrella before re-covering.'
+However, you couldn't ask me anything seriously that I wouldn't do, dear
+Mistress Perversity."
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_ (yielding a point).--"I'll put that boldly to the
+proof.  Say you don't love me!"
+
+_True Love_ (seizing his advantage).--"I don't!  It's imbecile and
+besotted devotion!  Tell me, when may I come to take you away?"
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_ (sighing).--"It's like asking me to leave Heaven."
+
+_True Love_.--"I know it; she told me where to find you,--Thornycroft is
+the seventh poultry-farm I've visited,--but you could never leave Heaven,
+you can't be happy without poultry, why that is a wish easily gratified.
+I'll get you a farm to-morrow; no, it's Saturday, and the real estate
+offices close at noon, but on Monday, without fail.  Your ducks and
+geese, always carrying it along with you.  All you would have to do is to
+admit me; Heaven is full of twos.  If you shall swim on a crystal
+lake--Phoebe told me what a genius you have for getting them out of the
+muddy pond; she was sitting beside it when I called, her hand in that of
+a straw-coloured person named Gladwish, and the ground in her vicinity
+completely strewn with votive offerings.  You shall splash your silver
+sea with an ivory wand; your hens shall have suburban cottages, each with
+its garden; their perches shall be of satin-wood and their water dishes
+of mother-of-pearl.  You shall be the Goose Girl and I will be the Swan
+Herd--simply to be near you--for I hate live poultry.  Dost like the
+picture?  It's a little like Claude Melnotte's, I confess.  The fact is I
+am not quite sane; talking with you after a fortnight of the tabbies at
+the Hydro is like quaffing inebriating vodka after Miffin's Food!  May I
+come to-morrow?"
+
+_Bailiffs Daughter_ (hedging).--"I shall be rather busy; the Crossed
+Minorca hen comes off to-morrow."
+
+_True Love_.--"Oh, never mind!  I'll take her off to-night when I escort
+you to the farm; then she'll get a day's advantage."
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"And rob fourteen prospective chicks of a mother;
+nay, lose the chicks themselves?  Never!"
+
+_True Love_.--"So long as you are a Goose Girl, does it make any
+difference whose you are?  Is it any more agreeable to be Mrs. Heaven's
+Goose Girl than mine?"
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"Ah! but in one case the term of service is
+limited; in the other, permanent."
+
+_True Love_.--"But in the one case you are the slave of the employer, in
+the other the employer of the slave.  Why did you run away?"
+
+_Bailiff's Daughter_.--"A man's mind is too dull an instrument to measure
+a woman's reason; even my own fails sometimes to deal with all its
+delicate shades; but I think I must have run away chiefly to taste the
+pleasure of being pursued and brought back.  If it is necessary to your
+happiness that you should explore all the Bluebeard chambers of my being,
+I will confess further that it has taken you nearly three weeks to
+accomplish what I supposed you would do in three days!"
+
+_True Love_ (after a well-spent interval).--"To-morrow, then; shall we
+say before breakfast?  All, do!  Why not?  Well, then, immediately after
+breakfast, and I breakfast at seven nowadays, and sometimes earlier.  Do
+take off those ugly cotton gloves, dear; they are five sizes too large
+for you, and so rough and baggy to the touch!"
+
+
+
+***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DIARY OF A GOOSE GIRL***
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+Project Gutenberg Etext of The Diary of a Goose Girl, by Wiggin
+#11 in our series by Kate Douglas Wiggin
+
+
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+The Diary of a Goose Girl
+
+by Kate Douglas Wiggin
+
+August, 1999  [Etext #1867]
+
+
+Project Gutenberg Etext of The Diary of a Goose Girl, by Wiggin
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+This etext was prepared by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk
+from the 1902 Gay and Bird edition.
+
+
+
+
+
+The Diary of a Goose Girl
+
+by Kate Douglas Wiggin
+
+
+
+
+THORNYCROFT FARM, near Barbury Green, July 1, 190-.
+
+In alluding to myself as a Goose Girl, I am using only the most
+modest of my titles; for I am also a poultry-maid, a tender of
+Belgian hares and rabbits, and a shepherdess; but I particularly
+fancy the role of Goose Girl, because it recalls the German fairy
+tales of my early youth, when I always yearned, but never hoped, to
+be precisely what I now am.
+
+As I was jolting along these charming Sussex roads the other day, a
+fat buff pony and a tippy cart being my manner of progression, I
+chanced upon the village of Barbury Green.
+
+One glance was enough for any woman, who, having eyes to see, could
+see with them; but I made assurance doubly sure by driving about a
+little, struggling to conceal my new-born passion from the stable-
+boy who was my escort.  Then, it being high noon of a cloudless
+day, I descended from the trap and said to the astonished yokel:
+"You may go back to the Hydropathic; I am spending a month or two
+here.  Wait a moment--I'll send a message, please!"
+
+I then scribbled a word or two to those having me in custody.
+
+"I am very tired of people," the note ran, "and want to rest myself
+by living a while with things.  Address me (if you must) at Barbury
+Green post-office, or at all events send me a box of simple
+clothing there--nothing but shirts and skirts, please.  I cannot
+forget that I am only twenty miles from Oxenbridge (though it might
+be one hundred and twenty, which is the reason I adore it), but I
+rely upon you to keep an honourable distance yourselves, and not to
+divulge my place of retreat to others, especially to--you know
+whom!  Do not pursue me.  I will never be taken alive!"
+
+Having cut, thus, the cable that bound me to civilisation, and
+having seen the buff pony and the dazed yokel disappear in a cloud
+of dust, I looked about me with what Stevenson calls a "fine,
+dizzy, muddle-headed joy," the joy of a successful rebel or a
+liberated serf.  Plenty of money in my purse--that was unromantic,
+of course, but it simplified matters--and nine hours of daylight
+remaining in which to find a lodging.
+
+The village is one of the oldest, and I am sure it must be one of
+the quaintest, in England.  It is too small to be printed on the
+map (an honour that has spoiled more than one Arcadia), so pray do
+not look there, but just believe in it, and some day you may be
+rewarded by driving into it by chance, as I did, and feel the same
+Columbus thrill running, like an electric current, through your
+veins.  I withhold specific geographical information in order that
+you may not miss that Columbus thrill, which comes too seldom in a
+world of railroads.
+
+The Green is in the very centre of Barbury village, and all civic,
+political, family, and social life converges there, just at the
+public duck-pond--a wee, sleepy lake with a slope of grass-covered
+stones by which the ducks descend for their swim.
+
+The houses are set about the Green like those in a toy village.
+They are of old brick, with crumpled, up-and-down roofs of deep-
+toned red, and tufts of stonecrop growing from the eaves.  Diamond-
+paned windows, half open, admit the sweet summer air; and as for
+the gardens in front, it would seem as if the inhabitants had
+nothing to do but work in them, there is such a riotous profusion
+of colour and bloom.  To add to the effect, there are always pots
+of flowers hanging from the trees, blue flax and yellow myrtle; and
+cages of Java sparrows and canaries singing joyously, as well they
+may in such a paradise.
+
+The shops are idyllic, too, as if Nature had seized even the man of
+trade and made him subservient to her designs.  The general
+draper's, where I fitted myself out for a day or two quite easily,
+is set back in a tangle of poppies and sweet peas, Madonna lilies
+and Canterbury bells.  The shop itself has a gay awning, and what
+do you think the draper has suspended from it, just as a
+picturesque suggestion to the passer-by?  Suggestion I call it,
+because I should blush to use the word advertisement in describing
+anything so dainty and decorative.  Well, then, garlands of shoes,
+if you please!  Baby bootlets of bronze; tiny ankle-ties in yellow,
+blue, and scarlet kid; glossy patent-leather pumps shining in the
+sun, with festoons of slippers at the corners, flowery slippers in
+imitation Berlin wool-work.  If you make this picture in your
+mind's-eye, just add a window above the awning, and over the fringe
+of marigolds in the window-box put the draper's wife dancing a
+rosy-cheeked baby.  Alas! my words are only black and white, I
+fear, and this picture needs a palette drenched in primary colours.
+
+Along the street, a short distance, is the old watchmaker's.  Set
+in the hedge at the gate is a glass case with Multum in Parvo
+painted on the woodwork.  Within, a little stand of trinkets
+revolves slowly; as slowly, I imagine, as the current of business
+in that quiet street.  The house stands a trifle back and is
+covered thickly with ivy, while over the entrance-door of the shop
+is a great round clock set in a green frame of clustering vine.
+The hands pointed to one when I passed the watchmaker's garden with
+its thicket of fragrant lavender and its murmuring bees; so I went
+in to the sign of the "Strong i' the Arm" for some cold luncheon,
+determining to patronise "The Running Footman" at the very next
+opportunity.  Neither of these inns is starred by Baedeker, and
+this fact adds the last touch of enchantment to the picture.
+
+The landlady at the "Strong i' the Arm" stabbed me in the heart by
+telling me that there were no apartments to let in the village, and
+that she had no private sitting-room in the inn; but she speedily
+healed the wound by saying that I might be accommodated at one of
+the farm-houses in the vicinity.  Did I object to a farm-'ouse?
+Then she could cheerfully recommend the Evan's farm, only 'alf a
+mile away.  She 'ad understood from Miss Phoebe Evan, who sold her
+poultry, that they would take one lady lodger if she didn't wish
+much waiting upon.
+
+In my present mood I was in search of the strenuous life, and eager
+to wait, rather than to be waited upon; so I walked along the edge
+of the Green, wishing that some mentally unbalanced householder
+would take a sudden fancy to me and ask me to come in and lodge
+awhile.  I suppose these families live under their roofs of peach-
+blow tiles, in the midst of their blooming gardens, for a guinea a
+week or thereabouts; yet if they "undertook" me (to use their own
+phrase), the bill for my humble meals and bed would be at least
+double that.  I don't know that I blame them; one should have
+proper compensation for admitting a world-stained lodger into such
+an Eden.
+
+When I was searching for rooms a week ago, I chanced upon a pretty
+cottage where the woman had sometimes let apartments.  She showed
+me the premises and asked me if I would mind taking my meals in her
+own dining-room, where I could be served privately at certain
+hours:  and, since she had but the one sitting-room, would I allow
+her to go on using it occasionally? also, if I had no special
+preference, would I take the second-sized bedroom and leave her in
+possession of the largest one, which permitted her to have the
+baby's crib by her bedside?  She thought I should be quite as
+comfortable, and it was her opinion that in making arrangements
+with lodgers, it was a good plan not to "bryke up the 'ome any more
+than was necessary."
+
+"Bryke up the 'ome!"  That is seemingly the malignant purpose with
+which I entered Barbury Green.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+
+
+July 4th.
+
+Enter the family of Thornycroft Farm, of which I am already a
+member in good and regular standing.
+
+I introduce Mrs. Heaven first, for she is a self-saturated person
+who would never forgive the insult should she receive any lower
+place.
+
+She welcomed me with the statement:  "We do not take lodgers here,
+nor boarders; no lodgers, nor boarders, but we do occasionally
+admit paying guests, those who look as if they would appreciate the
+quietude of the plyce and be willing as you might say to remunerate
+according."
+
+I did not mind at this particular juncture what I was called, so
+long as the epithet was comparatively unobjectionable, so I am a
+paying guest, therefore, and I expect to pay handsomely for the
+handsome appellation.  Mrs. Heaven is short and fat; she fills her
+dress as a pin-cushion fills its cover; she wears a cap and apron,
+and she is so full of platitudes that she would have burst had I
+not appeared as a providential outlet for them.  Her accent is not
+of the farm, but of the town, and smacks wholly of the marts of
+trade.  She is repetitious, too, as well as platitudinous.  "I 'ope
+if there's anythink you require you will let us know, let us know,"
+she says several times each day; and whenever she enters my
+sitting-room she prefaces her conversation with the remark:  "I
+trust you are finding it quiet here, miss?  It's the quietude of
+the plyce that is its charm, yes, the quietude.  And yet" (she
+dribbles on) "it wears on a body after a while, miss.  I often go
+into Woodmucket to visit one of my sons just for the noise, simply
+for the noise, miss, for nothink else in the world but the noise.
+There's nothink like noise for soothing nerves that is worn
+threadbare with the quietude, miss, or at least that's my
+experience; and yet to a strynger the quietude of the plyce is its
+charm, undoubtedly its chief charm; and that is what our paying
+guests always say, although our charges are somewhat higher than
+other plyces.  If there's anythink you require, miss, I 'ope you'll
+mention it.  There is not a commodious assortment in Barbury Green,
+but we can always send the pony to Woodmucket in case of urgency.
+Our paying guest last summer was a Mrs. Pollock, and she was by way
+of having sudden fancies.  Young and unmarried though you are,
+miss, I think you will tyke my meaning without my speaking plyner?
+Well, at six o'clock of a rainy afternoon, she was seized with an
+unaccountable desire for vegetable marrows, and Mr. 'Eaven put the
+pony in the cart and went to Woodmucket for them, which is a great
+advantage to be so near a town and yet 'ave the quietude."
+
+Mr. Heaven is merged, like Mr. Jellyby, in the more shining
+qualities of his wife.  A line of description is too long for him.
+Indeed, I can think of no single word brief enough, at least in
+English.  The Latin "nil" will do, since no language is rich in
+words of less than three letters.  He is nice, kind, bald, timid,
+thin, and so colourless that he can scarcely be discerned save in a
+strong light.  When Mrs. Heaven goes out into the orchard in search
+of him, I can hardly help calling from my window, "Bear a trifle to
+the right, Mrs. Heaven--now to the left--just in front of you now--
+if you put out your hands you will touch him."
+
+Phoebe, aged seventeen, is the daughter of the house.  She is
+virtuous, industrious, conscientious, and singularly destitute of
+physical charm.  She is more than plain; she looks as if she had
+been planned without any definite purpose in view, made of the
+wrong materials, been badly put together, and never properly
+finished off; but "plain" after all is a relative word.  Many a
+plain girl has been married for her beauty; and now and then a
+beauty, falling under a cold eye, has been thought plain.
+
+Phoebe has her compensations, for she is beloved by, and
+reciprocates the passion of, the Woodmancote carrier, Woodmucket
+being the English manner of pronouncing the place of his abode.  If
+he "carries" as energetically for the great public as he fetches
+for Phoebe, then he must be a rising and a prosperous man.  He
+brings her daily, wild strawberries, cherries, birds' nests,
+peacock feathers, sea-shells, green hazel-nuts, samples of hens'
+food, or bouquets of wilted field flowers tied together tightly and
+held with a large, moist, loving hand.  He has fine curly hair of
+sandy hue, which forms an aureole on his brow, and a reddish beard,
+which makes another inverted aureole to match, round his chin.  One
+cannot look at him, especially when the sun shines through him,
+without thinking how lovely he would be if stuffed and set on
+wheels, with a little string to drag him about.
+
+Phoebe confided to me that she was on the eve of loving the postman
+when the carrier came across her horizon.
+
+"It doesn't do to be too hysty, does it, miss?" she asked me as we
+were weeding the onion bed.  "I was to give the postman his answer
+on the Monday night, and it was on the Monday morning that Mr.
+Gladwish made his first trip here as carrier.  I may say I never
+wyvered from that moment, and no more did he.  When I think how
+near I came to promising the postman it gives me a turn."  (I can
+understand that, for I once met the man I nearly promised years
+before to marry, and we both experienced such a sense of relief at
+being free instead of bound that we came near falling in love for
+sheer joy.)
+
+The last and most important member of the household is the Square
+Baby.  His name is Albert Edward, and he is really five years old
+and no baby at all; but his appearance on this planet was in the
+nature of a complete surprise to all parties concerned, and he is
+spoiled accordingly.  He has a square head and jaw, square
+shoulders, square hands and feet.  He is red and white and solid
+and stolid and slow-witted, as the young of his class commonly are,
+and will make a bulwark of the nation in course of time, I should
+think; for England has to produce a few thousand such square babies
+every year for use in the colonies and in the standing army.
+Albert Edward has already a military gait, and when he has acquired
+a habit of obedience at all comparable with his power of command,
+he will be able to take up the white man's burden with
+distinguished success.  Meantime I can never look at him without
+marvelling how the English climate can transmute bacon and eggs,
+tea and the solid household loaf into such radiant roses and lilies
+as bloom upon his cheeks and lips.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+
+
+July 8th.
+
+Thornycroft is by way of being a small poultry farm.
+
+In reaching it from Barbury Green, you take the first left-hand
+road, go till you drop, and there you are.
+
+It reminds me of my "grandmother's farm at Older."  Did you know
+the song when you were a child? -
+
+
+My grandmother had a very fine farm
+'Way down in the fields of Older.
+With a cluck-cluck here,
+And a cluck-cluck there,
+Here and there a cluck-cluck,
+Cluck-cluck here and there,
+Down in the fields at Older.
+
+
+It goes on for ever by the simple subterfuge of changing a few
+words in each verse.
+
+
+My grandmother had a very fine farm
+'Way down in the fields of Older.
+With a quack-quack here,
+And a quack-quack there,
+Here and there a quack-quack,
+Quack-quack here and there,
+Down in the fields at Older.
+
+
+This is followed by the gobble-gobble, moo-moo, baa-baa, etc., as
+long as the laureate's imagination and the infant's breath hold
+good.  The tune is pretty, and I do not know, or did not, when I
+was young, a more fascinating lyric.
+
+Thornycroft House must have belonged to a country gentleman once
+upon a time, or to more than one; men who built on a bit here and
+there once in a hundred years, until finally we have this
+charmingly irregular and dilapidated whole.  You go up three steps
+into Mrs. Heaven's room, down two into mine, while Phoebe's is up
+in a sort of turret with long, narrow lattices opening into the
+creepers.  There are crooked little stair-cases, passages that
+branch off into other passages and lead nowhere in particular; I
+can't think of a better house in which to play hide and seek on a
+wet day.  In front, what was once, doubtless, a green, is cut up
+into greens; to wit, a vegetable garden, where the onions, turnips,
+and potatoes grow cosily up to the very door-sill; the utilitarian
+aspect of it all being varied by some scarlet-runners and a
+scattering of poppies on either side of the path.
+
+The Belgian hares have their habitation in a corner fifty feet
+distant; one large enclosure for poultry lies just outside the
+sweetbrier hedge; the others, with all the houses and coops, are in
+the meadow at the back, where also our tumbler pigeons are kept.
+
+Phoebe attends to the poultry; it is her department.  Mr. Heaven
+has neither the force nor the finesse required, and the gentle
+reader who thinks these qualities unneeded in so humble a calling
+has only to spend a few days at Thornycroft to be convinced.  Mrs.
+Heaven would be of use, but she is dressing the Square Baby in the
+morning and putting him to bed at night just at the hours when the
+feathered young things are undergoing the same operation.
+
+A Goose Girl, like a poet, is sometimes born, sometimes otherwise.
+I am of the born variety.  No training was necessary; I put my head
+on my pillow as a complicated product of modern civilisation on a
+Tuesday night, and on a Wednesday morning I awoke as a Goose Girl.
+
+My destiny slumbered during the day, but at eight o'clock I heard a
+terrific squawking in the direction of the duck-ponds, and,
+aimlessly drifting in that direction, I came upon Phoebe trying to
+induce ducks and drakes, geese and ganders, to retire for the
+night.  They have to be driven into enclosures behind fences of
+wire netting, fastened into little rat-proof boxes, or shut into
+separate coops, so as to be safe from their natural enemies, the
+rats and foxes; which, obeying, I suppose, the law of supply and
+demand, abound in this neighbourhood.  The old ganders are allowed
+their liberty, being of such age, discretion, sagacity, and
+pugnacity that they can be trusted to fight their own battles.
+
+The intelligence of hens, though modest, is of such an order that
+it prompts them to go to bed at a virtuous hour of their own
+accord; but ducks and geese have to be materially assisted, or I
+believe they would roam till morning.  Never did small boy detest
+and resist being carried off to his nursery as these dullards,
+young and old, detest and resist being driven to theirs.  Whether
+they suffer from insomnia, or nightmare, or whether they simply
+prefer the sweet air of liberty (and death) to the odour of
+captivity and the coop, I have no means of knowing.
+
+Phoebe stood by one of the duck-ponds, a long pole in her hand, and
+a helpless expression in that doughlike countenance of hers, where
+aimless contours and features unite to make a kind of facial blur.
+(What does the carrier see in it?)  The pole was not long enough to
+reach the ducks, and Phoebe's method lacked spirit and adroitness,
+so that it was natural, perhaps, that they refused to leave the
+water, the evening being warm, with an uncommon fine sunset.
+
+I saw the situation at once and ran to meet it with a glow of
+interest and anticipation.  If there is anything in the world I
+enjoy, it is making somebody do something that he doesn't want to
+do; and if, when victory perches upon my banner, the somebody can
+be brought to say that he ought to have done it without my making
+him, that adds the unforgettable touch to pleasure, though seldom,
+alas! does it happen.  Then ensued the delightful and stimulating
+hour that has now become a feature of the day; an hour in which the
+remembrance of the table-d'hote dinner at the Hydro, going on at
+identically the same time, only stirs me to a keener joy and
+gratitude.
+
+The ducks swim round in circles, hide under the willows, and
+attempt to creep into the rat-holes in the banks, a stupidity so
+crass that it merits instant death, which it somehow always
+escapes.  Then they come out in couples and waddle under the wrong
+fence into the lower meadow, fly madly under the tool-house, pitch
+blindly in with the sitting hens, and out again in short order, all
+the time quacking and squawking, honking and hissing like a
+bewildered orchestra.  By dint of splashing the water with poles,
+throwing pebbles, beating the shrubs at the pond's edges, "shooing"
+frantically with our skirts, crawling beneath bars to head them
+off, and prodding them from under bushes to urge them on, we
+finally get the older ones out of the water and the younger ones
+into some sort of relation to their various retreats; but, owing to
+their lack of geography, hatred of home, and general recalcitrancy,
+they none of them turn up in the right place and have to be sorted
+out.  We uncover the top of the little house, or the enclosure as
+it may be, or reach in at the door, and, seizing the struggling
+victim, drag him forth and take him where he should have had the
+wit to go in the first instance.  The weak ones get in with the
+strong and are in danger of being trampled; two May goslings that
+look almost full-grown have run into a house with a brood of
+ducklings a week old.  There are twenty-seven crowded into one
+coop, five in another, nineteen in another; the gosling with one
+leg has to come out, and the duckling threatened with the gapes;
+their place is with the "invaleeds," as Phoebe calls them, but they
+never learn the location of the hospital, nor have the slightest
+scruple about spreading contagious diseases.
+
+Finally, when we have separated and sorted exhaustively, an
+operation in which Phoebe shows a delicacy of discrimination and a
+fearlessness of attack amounting to genius, we count the entire
+number and find several missing.  Searching for their animate or
+inanimate bodies, we "scoop" one from under the tool-house, chance
+upon two more who are being harried and pecked by the big geese in
+the lower meadow, and discover one sailing by himself in solitary
+splendour in the middle of the deserted pond, a look of evil
+triumph in his bead-like eye.  Still we lack one young duckling,
+and he at length is found dead by the hedge.  A rat has evidently
+seized him and choked him at a single throttle, but in such haste
+that he has not had time to carry away the tiny body.
+
+"Poor think!" says Phoebe tearfully; "it looks as if it was 'it
+with some kind of a wepping.  I don't know whatever to do with the
+rats, they're gettin' that fearocious!"
+
+Before I was admitted into daily contact with the living goose (my
+previous intercourse with him having been carried on when gravy and
+stuffing obscured his true personality), I thought him a very
+Dreyfus among fowls, a sorely slandered bird, to whom justice had
+never been done; for even the gentle Darwin is hard upon him.  My
+opinion is undergoing some slight modifications, but I withhold
+judgment at present, hoping that some of the follies, faults,
+vagaries, and limitations that I observe in Phoebe's geese may be
+due to Phoebe's educational methods, which were, before my advent,
+those of the darkest ages.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+
+
+July 9th.
+
+By the time the ducks and geese are incarcerated for the night, the
+reasonable, sensible, practical-minded hens--especially those whose
+mentality is increased and whose virtue is heightened by the
+responsibilities of motherhood--have gone into their own particular
+rat-proof boxes, where they are waiting in a semi-somnolent state
+to have the wire doors closed, the bricks set against them, and the
+bits of sacking flung over the tops to keep out the draught.  We
+have a great many young families, both ducklings and chicks, but we
+have no duck mothers at present.  The variety of bird which Phoebe
+seems to have bred during the past year may be called the New Duck,
+with certain radical ideas about woman's sphere.  What will happen
+to Thornycroft if we develop a New Hen and a New Cow, my
+imagination fails to conceive.  There does not seem to be the
+slightest danger for the moment, however, and our hens lay and sit
+and sit and lay as if laying and sitting were the twin purposes of
+life.
+
+The nature of the hen seems to broaden with the duties of
+maternity, but I think myself that we presume a little upon her
+amiability and natural motherliness.  It is one thing to desire a
+family of one's own, to lay eggs with that idea in view, to sit
+upon them three long weeks and hatch out and bring up a nice brood
+of chicks.  It must be quite another to have one's eggs abstracted
+day by day and eaten by a callous public, the nest filled with
+deceitful substitutes, and at the end of a dull and weary period of
+hatching to bring into the world another person's children--
+children, too, of the wrong size, the wrong kind of bills and feet,
+and, still more subtle grievance, the wrong kind of instincts,
+leading them to a dangerous aquatic career, one which the mother
+may not enter to guide, guard, and teach; one on the brink of which
+she must ever stand, uttering dryshod warnings which are never
+heeded.  They grow used to this strange order of things after a
+bit, it is true, and are less anxious and excited.  When the duck-
+brood returns safely again and again from what the hen-mother
+thinks will prove a watery grave, she becomes accustomed to the
+situation, I suppose.  I find that at night she stands by the pond
+for what she considers a decent, self-respecting length of time,
+calling the ducklings out of the water; then, if they refuse to
+come, the mother goes off to bed and leaves them to Providence, or
+Phoebe.
+
+The brown hen that we have named Cornelia is the best mother, the
+one who waits longest and most patiently for the web-footed Gracchi
+to finish their swim.
+
+When a chick is taken out of the incubytor (as Phoebe calls it) and
+refused by all the other hens, Cornelia generally accepts it,
+though she had twelve of her own when we began using her as an
+orphan asylum.  "Wings are made to stretch," she seems to say
+cheerfully, and with a kind glance of her round eye she welcomes
+the wanderer and the outcast.  She even tended for a time the
+offspring of an absent-minded, light-headed pheasant who flew over
+a four-foot wall and left her young behind her to starve; it was
+not a New Pheasant, either; for the most conservative and old-
+fashioned of her tribe occasionally commits domestic solecisms of
+this sort.
+
+There is no telling when, where, or how the maternal instinct will
+assert itself.  Among our Thornycroft cats is a certain Mrs.
+Greyskin.  She had not been seen for many days, and Mrs. Heaven
+concluded that she had hidden herself somewhere with a family of
+kittens; but as the supply of that article with us more than equals
+the demand, we had not searched for her with especial zeal.
+
+The other day Mrs. Greyskin appeared at the dairy door, and when
+she had been fed Phoebe and I followed her stealthily, from a
+distance.  She walked slowly about as if her mind were quite free
+from harassing care, and finally approached a deserted cow-house
+where there was a great mound of straw.  At this moment she caught
+sight of us and turned in another direction to throw us off the
+scent.  We persevered in our intention of going into her probable
+retreat, and were cautiously looking for some sign of life in the
+haymow, when we heard a soft cackle and a ruffling of plumage.
+Coming closer to the sound we saw a black hen brooding a nest, her
+bright bead eyes turning nervously from side to side; and, coaxed
+out from her protecting wings by youthful curiosity, came four
+kittens, eyes wide open, warm, happy, ready for sport!
+
+The sight was irresistible, and Phoebe ran for Mr. and Mrs. Heaven
+and the Square Baby.  Mother Hen was not to be embarrassed or
+daunted, even if her most sacred feelings were regarded in the
+light of a cheap entertainment.  She held her ground while one of
+the kits slid up and down her glossy back, and two others, more
+timid, crept underneath her breast, only daring to put out their
+pink noses!  We retired then for very shame and met Mrs. Greyskin
+in the doorway.  This should have thickened the plot, but there is
+apparently no rivalry nor animosity between the co-mothers.  We
+watch them every day now, through a window in the roof.  Mother
+Greyskin visits the kittens frequently, lies down beside the home
+nest, and gives them their dinner.  While this is going on Mother
+Blackwing goes modestly away for a bite, a sup, and a little
+exercise, returning to the kittens when the cat leaves them.  It is
+pretty to see her settle down over the four, fat, furry dumplings,
+and they seem to know no difference in warmth or comfort, whichever
+mother is brooding them; while, as their eyes have been open for a
+week, it can no longer be called a blind error on their part.
+
+When we have closed all our small hen-nurseries for the night,
+there is still the large house inhabited by the thirty-two full-
+grown chickens which Phoebe calls the broilers.  I cannot endure
+the term, and will not use it.  "Now for the April chicks," I say
+every evening.
+
+"Do you mean the broilers?" asks Phoebe.
+
+"I mean the big April chicks," say I.
+
+"Yes, them are the broilers," says she.
+
+But is it not disagreeable enough to be a broiler when one's time
+comes, without having the gridiron waved in one's face for weeks
+beforehand?
+
+The April chicks are all lively and desirous of seeing the world as
+thoroughly as possible before going to roost or broil.  As a
+general thing, we find in the large house sixteen young fowls of
+the contemplative, flavourless, resigned-to-the-inevitable variety;
+three more (the same three every night) perch on the roof and are
+driven down; four (always the same four) cling to the edge of the
+open door, waiting to fly off, but not in, when you attempt to
+close it; nine huddle together on a place in the grass about forty
+feet distant, where a small coop formerly stood in the prehistoric
+ages.  This small coop was one in which they lodged for a fortnight
+when they were younger, and when those absolutely indelible
+impressions are formed of which we read in educational maxims.  It
+was taken away long since, but the nine loyal (or stupid)
+Casabiancas cling to the sacred spot where its foundations rested;
+they accordingly have to be caught and deposited bodily in the
+house, and this requires strategy, as they note our approach from a
+considerable distance.
+
+Finally all are housed but two, the little white cock and the black
+pullet, who are still impish and of a wandering mind.  Though
+headed off in every direction, they fly into the hedges and hide in
+the underbrush.  We beat the hedge on the other side, but with no
+avail.  We dive into the thicket of wild roses, sweetbrier, and
+thistles on our hands and knees, coming out with tangled hair,
+scratched noses, and no hens.  Then, when all has been done that
+human ingenuity can suggest, Phoebe goes to her late supper and I
+do sentry-work.  I stroll to a safe distance, and, sitting on one
+of the rat-proof boxes, watch the bushes with an eagle eye.  Five
+minutes go by, ten, fifteen; and then out steps the white cock,
+stealthily tiptoeing toward the home into which he refused to go at
+our instigation.  In a moment out creeps the obstinate little beast
+of a black pullet from the opposite clump.  The wayward pair meet
+at their own door, which I have left open a few inches.  When all
+is still I walk gently down the field, and, warned by previous
+experiences, approach the house from behind.  I draw the door to
+softly and quickly; but not so quickly that the evil-minded and
+suspicious black pullet hasn't time to spring out, with a make-
+believe squawk of fright--that induces three other blameless
+chickens to fly down from their perches and set the whole flock in
+a flutter.  Then I fall from grace and call her a Broiler; and
+when, after some minutes of hot pursuit, I catch her by falling
+over her in the corner by the goose-pen, I address her as a fat,
+juicy Broiler with parsley butter and a bit of bacon.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+
+
+July 10th.
+
+At ten thirty or so in the morning the cackling begins.  I wonder
+exactly what it means!  Have the forest-lovers who listen so
+respectfully to, and interpret so exquisitely, the notes of birds--
+have none of them made psychological investigations of the hen
+cackle?  Can it be simple elation?  One could believe that of the
+first few eggs, but a hen who has laid two or three hundred can
+hardly feel the same exuberant pride and joy daily.  Can it be the
+excitement incident to successful achievement?  Hardly, because the
+task is so extremely simple.  Eggs are more or less alike; a little
+larger or smaller, a trifle whiter or browner; and almost sure to
+be quite right as to details; that is, the big end never gets
+confused with the little end, they are always ovoid and never
+spherical, and the yolk is always inside of the white.  As for a
+soft-shelled egg, it is so rare an occurrence that the fear of
+laying one could not set the whole race of hens in a panic; so
+there really cannot be any intellectual or emotional agitation in
+producing a thing that might be made by a machine.  Can it be
+simply "fussiness"; since the people who have the least to do
+commonly make the most flutter about doing it?
+
+Perhaps it is merely conversation.  "Cut-cut-cut-cut-cut-DAHcut! .
+. . I have finished my strictly fresh egg, have you laid yours?
+Make haste, then, for the cock has found a gap in the wire-fence
+and wants us to wander in the strawberry-bed. . . . Cut-cut-cut-
+cut-cut-DAHcut . . . Every moment is precious, for the Goose Girl
+will find us, when she gathers the strawberries for her luncheon .
+. . Cut-cut-cut-cut!  On the way out we can find sweet places to
+steal nests . . . Cut-cut-cut! . . . I am so glad I am not sitting
+this heavenly morning; it IS a dull life.
+
+A Lancashire poultry-man drifted into Barbury Green yesterday.  He
+is an old acquaintance of Mr. Heaven, and spent the night and part
+of the next day at Thornycroft Farm.  He possessed a deal of fowl
+philosophy, and tells many a good hen story, which, like fish
+stories, draw rather largely on the credulity of the audience.  We
+were sitting in the rickyard talking comfortably about laying and
+cackling and kindred matters when he took his pipe from his mouth
+and told us the following tale--not a bad one if you can translate
+the dialect:-
+
+'Aw were once towd as, if yo' could only get th' hen's egg away
+afooar she hed sin it, th' hen 'ud think it hed med a mistek an'
+sit deawn ageean an' lay another.
+
+'An' it seemed to me it were a varra sensible way o' lukkin' at it.
+Sooa aw set to wark to mek a nest as 'ud tek a rise eawt o' th'
+hens.  An' aw dud it too.  Aw med a nest wi' a fause bottom, th'
+idea bein' as when a hen hed laid, th' egg 'ud drop through into a
+box underneyth.
+
+'Aw felt varra preawd o' that nest, too, aw con tell yo', an' aw
+remember aw felt quite excited when aw see an awd black Minorca,
+th' best layer as aw hed, gooa an' settle hersel deawn i' th' nest
+an' get ready for wark.  Th' hen seemed quite comfortable enough,
+aw were glad to see, an' geet through th' operation beawt ony
+seemin' trouble.
+
+"Well, aw darsay yo' know heaw a hen carries on as soon as it's
+laid a egg.  It starts "chuckin'" away like a showman's racket, an'
+after tekkin' a good Ink at th' egg to see whether it's a big 'un
+or a little 'un, gooas eawt an' tells all t'other hens abeawt it.
+
+"Neaw, this black Minorca, as aw sed, were a owdish bird, an' maybe
+knew mooar than aw thowt.  Happen it hed laid on a nest wi' a fause
+bottom afooar, an' were up to th' trick, but whether or not, aw
+never see a hen luk mooar disgusted i' mi life when it lukked i'
+th' nest an' see as it hed hed all that trouble fer nowt.
+
+"It woked reawnd th' nest as if it couldn't believe its own eyes.
+
+"But it dudn't do as aw expected.  Aw expected as it 'ud sit deawn
+ageean an' lay another.
+
+"But it just gi'e one wonderin' sooart o' chuck, an then, after a
+long stare reawnd th' hen-coyt, it woked eawt, as mad a hen as
+aw've ever sin.  Aw fun' eawt after, what th' long stare meant.  It
+were tekkin' farewell!  For if yo'll believe me that hen never laid
+another egg i' ony o' my nests.
+
+"Varra like it laid away in a spot wheear it could hev summat to
+luk at when it hed done wark for th' day.
+
+"Sooa aw lost mi best layer through mi actin', an' aw've never
+invented owt sen."
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+
+
+One learns to be modest by living on a poultry farm, for there are
+constant expositions of the most deplorable vanity among the cocks.
+We have a couple of pea-fowl who certainly are an addition to the
+landscape, as they step mincingly along the square of turf we
+dignify by the name of lawn.  The head of the house has a most
+languid and self-conscious strut, and his microscopic mind is fixed
+entirely on his splendid trailing tail.  If I could only master his
+language sufficiently to tell him how hideously ugly the back view
+of this gorgeous fan is, when he spreads it for the edification of
+the observer in front of him, he would of course retort that there
+is a "congregation side" to everything, but I should at least force
+him into a defence of his tail and a confession of its limitations.
+This would be new and unpleasant, I fancy; and if it produced no
+perceptible effect upon his super-arrogant demeanour, I might
+remind him that he is likely to be used, eventually, for a feather
+duster, unless, indeed, the Heavens are superstitious and prefer to
+throw his tail away, rather than bring ill luck and the evil eye
+into the house.
+
+The longer I study the cock, whether Black Spanish, White Leghorn,
+Dorking, or the common barnyard fowl, the more intimately I am
+acquainted with him, the less I am impressed with his character.
+He has more pride of bearing, and less to be proud of, than any
+bird I know.  He is indolent, though he struts pompously over the
+grass as if the day were all too short for his onerous duties.  He
+calls the hens about him when I throw corn from the basket, but
+many a time I have seen him swallow hurriedly, and in private, some
+dainty titbit he has found unexpectedly.  He has no particular
+chivalry.  He gives no special encouragement to his hen when he
+becomes a prospective father, and renders little assistance when
+the responsibilities become actualities.  His only personal message
+or contribution to the world is his raucous cock-a-doodle-doo,
+which, being uttered most frequently at dawn, is the most ill-timed
+and offensive of all musical notes.  It is so unnecessary too, as
+if the day didn't come soon enough without his warning; but I
+suppose he is anxious to waken his hens and get them at their daily
+task, and so he disturbs the entire community.  In short, I dislike
+him; his swagger, his autocratic strut, his greed, his irritating
+self-consciousness, his endless parading of himself up and down in
+a procession of one.
+
+Of course his character is largely the result of polygamy.  His
+weaknesses are only what might be expected; and as for the hens, I
+have considerable respect for the patience, sobriety, and dignity
+with which they endure an institution particularly offensive to all
+women.  In their case they do not even have the sustaining thought
+of its being an article of religion, so they are to be complimented
+the more.
+
+There is nothing on earth so feminine as a hen--not womanly, simply
+feminine.  Those men of insight who write the Woman's Page in the
+Sunday newspapers study hens more than women, I sometimes think; at
+any rate, their favourite types are all present on this poultry
+farm.
+
+Some families of White Leghorns spend most of their time in the
+rickyard, where they look extremely pretty, their slender white
+shapes and red combs and wattles well set off by the background of
+golden hayricks.  There is a great oak-tree in one corner, with a
+tall ladder leaning against its trunk, and a capital roosting-place
+on a long branch running at right angles with the ladder.  I try to
+spend a quarter of an hour there every night before supper, just
+for the pleasure of seeing the feathered "women-folks" mount that
+ladder.
+
+A dozen of them surround the foot, waiting restlessly for their
+turn.  One little white lady flutters up on the lowest round and
+perches there until she reviews the past, faces the present, and
+forecasts the future; during which time she is gathering courage
+for the next jump.  She cackles, takes up one foot and then the
+other, tilts back and forth, holds up her skirts and drops them
+again, cocks her head nervously to see whether they are all staring
+at her below, gives half a dozen preliminary springs which mean
+nothing, declares she can't and won't go up any faster, unties her
+bonnet strings and pushes back her hair, pulls down her dress to
+cover her toes, and finally alights on the next round, swaying to
+and fro until she gains her equilibrium, when she proceeds to enact
+the same scene over again.
+
+All this time the hens at the foot of the ladder are criticising
+her methods and exclaiming at the length of time she requires in
+mounting; while the cocks stroll about the yard keeping one eye on
+the ladder, picking up a seed here and there, and giving a
+masculine sneer now and then at the too-familiar scene.  They
+approach the party at intervals, but only to remark that it always
+makes a man laugh to see a woman go up a ladder.  The next hen,
+stirred to the depths by this speech, flies up entirely too fast,
+loses her head, tumbles off the top round, and has to make the
+ascent over again.  Thus it goes on and on, this petite comedie
+humaine, and I could enjoy it with my whole heart if Mr. Heaven did
+not insist on sharing the spectacle with me.  He is so
+inexpressibly dull, so destitute of humour, that I did not think it
+likely he would see in the performance anything more than a flock
+of hens going up a ladder to roost.  But he did; for there is no
+man so blind that he cannot see the follies of women; and, when he
+forgot himself so far as to utter a few genial, silly, well-worn
+reflections upon femininity at large, I turned upon him and
+revealed to him some of the characteristics of his own sex, gained
+from an exhaustive study of the barnyard fowl of the masculine
+gender.  He went into the house discomfited, though chuckling a
+little at my vehemence; but at least I have made it for ever
+impossible for him to watch his hens without an occasional glance
+at the cocks.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+
+
+July 12th.
+
+O the pathos of a poultry farm!  Catherine of Aragon, the black
+Spanish hen that stole her nest, brought out nine chicks this
+morning, and the business-like and marble-hearted Phoebe has taken
+them away and given them to another hen who has only seven.  Two
+mothers cannot be wasted on these small families--it would not be
+profitable; and the older mother, having been tried and found
+faithful over seven, has been given the other nine and accepted
+them.  What of the bereft one?  She is miserable and stands about
+moping and forlorn, but it is no use fighting against the
+inevitable; hens' hearts must obey the same laws that govern the
+rotation of crops.  Catherine of Aragon feels her lot a bitter one
+just now, but in time she will succumb, and lay, which is more to
+the point.
+
+We have had a very busy evening, beginning with the rats' supper--
+delicate sandwiches of bread-and-butter spread with Paris green.
+
+We have a new brood of seventeen ducklings just hatched this
+afternoon.  When we came to the nest the yellow and brown bunches
+of down and fluff were peeping out from under the hen's wings in
+the prettiest fashion in the world.
+
+"It's a noble hen!" I said to Phoebe.
+
+"She ain't so nowble as she looks," Phoebe answered grimly.  "It
+was another 'en that brooded these eggs for near on three weeks and
+then this big one come along with a fancy she'd like a family
+'erself if she could steal one without too much trouble; so she
+drove the rightful 'en off the nest, finished up the last few days,
+and 'ere she is in possession of the ducklings!"
+
+"Why don't you take them away from her and give them back to the
+first hen, who did most of the work?" I asked, with some spirit.
+
+"Like as not she wouldn't tyke them now," said Phoebe, as she
+lifted the hen off the broken egg-shells and moved her gently into
+a clean box, on a bed of fresh hay.  We put food and drink within
+reach of the family, and very proud and handsome that highway
+robber of a hen looked, as she stretched her wings over the
+seventeen easily-earned ducklings.
+
+Going back to the old nesting-box, I found one egg forgotten among
+the shells.  It was still warm, and I took it up to run across the
+field with it to Phoebe.  It was heavy, and the carrying of it was
+a queer sensation, inasmuch as it squirmed and "yipped"
+vociferously in transit, threatening so unmistakably to hatch in my
+hand that I was decidedly nervous.  The intrepid little youngster
+burst his shell as he touched Phoebe's apron, and has become the
+strongest and handsomest of the brood.
+
+All this tending of downy young things, this feeding and putting to
+bed, this petting and nursing and rearing, is such pretty,
+comforting woman's work.  I am sure Phoebe will make a better wife
+to the carrier for having been a poultry-maid, and though good
+enough for most practical purposes when I came here, I am an
+infinitely better woman now.  I am afraid I was not particularly
+nice the last few days at the Hydro.  Such a lot of dull, prosy,
+inquisitive, bothering old tabbies!  Aunt Margaret furnishing
+imaginary symptoms enough to keep a fond husband and two trained
+nurses distracted; a man I had never encouraged in my life coming
+to stay in the neighbourhood and turning up daily for rejection;
+another man taking rooms at the very hotel with the avowed purpose
+of making my life a burden; and on the heels of both, a widow of
+thirty-five in full chase!  Small wonder I thought it more
+dignified to retire than to compete, and so I did.
+
+I need not, however, have cut the threads that bound me to
+Oxenbridge with such particularly sharp scissors, nor given them
+such a vicious snap; for, so far as I can observe, the little world
+of which I imagined myself the sun continues to revolve, and,
+probably, about some other centre.  I can well imagine who has
+taken up that delightful but somewhat exposed and responsible
+position--it would be just like her!
+
+I am perfectly happy where I am; it is not that; but it seems so
+strange that they can be perfectly happy without me, after all that
+they--after all that was said on the subject not many days ago.
+Nothing turns out as one expects.  There have been no hot pursuits,
+no rewards offered, no bills posted, no printed placards issued
+describing the beauty and charms of a young person who supposed
+herself the cynosure of every eye.  Heigh-ho!  What does it matter,
+after all?  One can always be a Goose Girl!
+
+* * *
+
+I wonder if the hen mother is quite, quite satisfied with her
+ducklings!  Do you suppose the fact of hatching and brooding them
+breaks down all the sense of difference?  Does she not sometimes
+reflect that if her children were the ordinary sort, and not these
+changelings, she would be enjoying certain pretty little attentions
+dear to a mother's heart?  The chicks would be pecking the food off
+her broad beak with their tiny ones, and jumping on her back to
+slide down her glossy feathers.  They would be far nicer to cuddle,
+too, so small and graceful and light; the changelings are a trifle
+solid and brawny.  And personally, just as a matter of taste, would
+she not prefer wee, round, glancing heads, and pointed beaks,
+peeping from under her wings, to these teaspoon-shaped things
+larger than her own?  I wonder!
+
+We are training fourteen large young chickens to sit on the perches
+in their new house, instead of huddling together on the floor as
+has been their habit, because we discover rat-holes under the wire
+flooring occasionally, and fear that toes may be bitten.  At nine
+o'clock Phoebe and I lift the chickens one by one, and, as it were,
+glue them to their perches, squawking.  Three nights have we gone
+patiently through with this performance, but they have not learned
+the lesson.  The ducks and geese are, however, greatly improved by
+the application of advanced educational methods, and the regime of
+perfect order and system instituted by Me begins to show results.
+
+There is no more violent splashing and pebbling, racing, chasing,
+separating.  The pole, indeed, still has to be produced, but at the
+first majestic wave of my hand they scuttle toward the shore.  The
+geese turn to the right, cross the rickyard, and go to their pen;
+the May ducks turn to the left for their coops, the June ducks
+follow the hens to the top meadow, and even the idiot gosling has
+an inspiration now and then and stumbles on his own habitation.
+
+Mrs. Heaven has no reverence for the principles of Comenius,
+Pestalozzi, or Herbert Spencer as applied to poultry, and when the
+ducks and geese came out of the pond badly the other night and went
+waddling and tumbling and hissing all over creation, did not
+approve of my sending them back into the pond to start afresh.
+
+"I consider it a great waste of time, of good time, miss," she
+said; "and, after all, do you consider that educated poultry will
+be any better eating, or that it will lay more than one egg a day,
+miss?"
+
+I have given the matter some attention, and I fear Mrs. Heaven is
+right.  A duck, a goose, or a hen in which I have developed a
+larger brain, implanted a sense of duty, or instilled an idea of
+self-government, is likely, on the whole, to be leaner, not fatter.
+There is nothing like obeying the voice of conscience for taking
+the flesh off one's bones; and, speaking of conscience, Phoebe,
+whose metaphysics are of the farm farmy, says that hers "felt like
+a hunlaid hegg for dyes" after she had jilted the postman.
+
+As to the eggs, I am sure the birds will go on laying one a day for
+'tis their nature to.  Whether the product of the intelligent,
+conscious, logical fowl, will be as rich in quality as that of the
+uneducated and barbaric bird, I cannot say; but it ought at least
+to be equal to the Denmark egg eaten now by all Londoners; and if,
+perchance, left uneaten, it is certain to be a very superior wife
+and mother.
+
+While we are discussing the subject of educating poultry, I confess
+that the case of Cannibal Ann gives me much anxiety.  Twice in her
+short career has she been under suspicion of eating her own eggs,
+but Phoebe has never succeeded in catching her in flagrante
+delicto.  That eminent detective service was reserved for me, and I
+have been haunted by the picture ever since.  It is an awful sight
+to witness a hen gulp her own newly-laid fresh egg, yolk, white,
+shell, and all; to realise that you have fed, sheltered, chased,
+and occasionally run in, a being possessed of no moral sense, a
+being likely to set a bad example, inculcate vicious habits among
+her innocent sisters, and lower the standard of an entire poultry-
+yard.  The Young Poultry Keeper's Friend gives us no advice on this
+topic, and we do not know whether to treat Cannibal Ann as the
+victim of a disease, or as a confirmed criminal; whether to
+administer remedies or cut her off in the flower of her youth.
+
+We have had a sad scene to-night.  A chick has been ailing all day,
+and when we shut up the brood we found him dead in a corner.
+
+Phoebe put him on the ground while she busied herself about the
+coop.  The other chicks came out and walked about the dead one
+again and again, eyeing him curiously.
+
+"Poor little chap!" said Phoebe.  "E's never 'ad a mother!  'E was
+an incubytor chicken, and wherever I took 'im 'e was picked at.
+There was somethink wrong with 'im; 'e never was a fyvorite!"
+
+I put the fluffy body into a hole in the turf, and strewed a
+handful of grass over him.  "Sad little epitaph!" I thought.  "He
+never was a fyvorite!"
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+
+
+July 13th.
+
+I like to watch the Belgian hares eating their trifolium or pea-
+pods or grass; graceful, gentle things they are, crowding about Mr.
+Heaven, and standing prettily, not greedily, on their hind legs, to
+reach for the clover, their delicate nostrils and whiskers all a-
+quiver with excitement.
+
+As I look out of my window in the dusk I can see one of the mothers
+galloping across the enclosure, the soft white lining of her tail
+acting as a beacon-light to the eight infant hares following her, a
+quaint procession of eight white spots in it glancing line.  In the
+darkest night those baby creatures could follow their mother
+through grass or hedge or thicket, and she would need no warning
+note to show them where to flee in case of danger.  "All you have
+to do is to follow the white night-light that I keep in the lining
+of my tail," she says, when she is giving her first maternal
+lectures; and it seems a beneficent provision of Nature.  To be
+sure, Mr. Heaven took his gun and went out to shoot wild rabbits
+to-day, and I noted that he marked them by those same self-
+betraying tails, as they scuttled toward their holes or leaped
+toward the protecting cover of the hedge; so it does not appear
+whether Nature is on the side of the farmer or the rabbit . . .
+
+There is as much comedy and as much tragedy in poultry life as
+anywhere, and already I see rifts within lutes.  We have in a cage
+a French gentleman partridge married to a Hungarian lady of
+defective sight.  He paces back and forth in the pen restlessly,
+anything but content with the domestic fireside.  One can see
+plainly that he is devoted to the Boulevards, and that if left to
+his own inclinations he would never have chosen any spouse but a
+thorough Parisienne.
+
+The Hungarian lady is blind of one eye, from some stray shot, I
+suppose.  She is melancholy at all times, and occasionally goes so
+far as to beat her head against the wire netting.  If liberated,
+Mr. Heaven says that her blindness would only expose her to death
+at the hands of the first sportsman, and it always seems to me as
+if she knows this, and is ever trying to decide whether a loveless
+marriage is any better than the tomb.
+
+Then, again, the great, grey gander is, for some mysterious reason,
+out of favour with the entire family.  He is a noble and amiable
+bird, by far the best all-round character in the flock, for dignity
+of mien and large-minded common-sense.  What is the treatment
+vouchsafed to this blameless husband and father?  One that puts
+anybody out of sorts with virtue and its scant rewards.  To begin
+with, the others will not allow him to go into the pond.  There is
+an organised cabal against it, and he sits solitary on the bank,
+calm and resigned, but, naturally, a trifle hurt.  His favourite
+retreat is a tiny sort of island on the edge of the pool under the
+alders, where with his bent head, and red-rimmed philosophic eyes
+he regards his own breast and dreams of happier days.  When the
+others walk into the country twenty-three of them keep together,
+and Burd Alane (as I have named him from the old ballad) walks by
+himself.  The lack of harmony is so evident here, and the slight so
+intentional and direct, that it almost moves me to tears.  The
+others walk soberly, always in couples, but even Burd Alane's
+rightful spouse is on the side of the majority, and avoids her
+consort.
+
+What is the nature of his offence?  There can be no connubial
+jealousies, I judge, as geese are strictly monogamous, and having
+chosen a partner of their joys and sorrows they cleave to each
+other until death or some other inexorable circumstance does them
+part.  If they are ever mistaken in their choice, and think they
+might have done better, the world is none the wiser.  Burd Alane
+looks in good condition, but Phoebe thinks he is not quite himself,
+and that some day when he is in greater strength he will turn on
+his foes and rend them, regaining thus his lost prestige, for
+formerly he was king of the flock.
+
+* * *
+
+Phoebe has not a vestige of sentiment.  She just asked me if I
+would have a duckling or a gosling for dinner; that there were two
+quite ready--the brown and yellow duckling, that is the last to
+leave the water at night, and the white gosling that never knows
+his own 'ouse.  Which would I 'ave, and would I 'ave it with sage
+and onion?
+
+Now, had I found a duckling on the table at dinner I should have
+eaten it without thinking at all, or with the thought that it had
+come from Barbury Green.  But eat a duckling that I have stoned out
+of the pond, pursued up the bank, chased behind the wire netting,
+caught, screaming, in a corner, and carried struggling to his bed?
+Feed upon an idiot gosling that I have found in nine different
+coops on nine successive nights--in with the newly-hatched chicks,
+the half-grown pullets, the setting hen, the "invaleed goose," the
+drake with the gapes, the old ducks in the pen?--Eat a gosling that
+I have caught and put in with his brothers and sisters (whom he
+never recognises) so frequently and regularly that I am familiar
+with every joint in his body?
+
+In the first place, with my own small bump of locality and lack of
+geography, I would never willingly consume a creature who might, by
+some strange process of assimilation, make me worse in this
+respect; in the second place, I should have to be ravenous indeed
+to sit down deliberately and make a meal of an intimate friend, no
+matter if I had not a high opinion of his intelligence.  I should
+as soon think of eating the Square Baby, stuffed with sage and
+onion and garnished with green apple-sauce, as the yellow duckling
+or the idiot gosling.
+
+Mrs. Heaven has just called me into her sitting-room, ostensibly to
+ask me to order breakfast, but really for the pleasure of
+conversation.  Why she should inquire whether I would relish some
+gammon of bacon with eggs, when she knows that there has not been,
+is not now, and never will be, anything but gammon of bacon with
+eggs, is more than I can explain.
+
+"Would you like to see my flowers, miss?" she asks, folding her
+plump hands over her white apron.  "They are looking beautiful this
+morning.  I am so fond of potted plants, of plants in pots.  Look
+at these geraniums!  Now, I consider that pink one a perfect bloom;
+yes, a perfect bloom.  This is a fine red one, is it not, miss?
+Especially fine, don't you think?  The trouble with the red variety
+is that they're apt to get "bobby" and have to be washed regularly;
+quite bobby they do get indeed, I assure you.  That white one has
+just gone out of blossom, and it was really wonderful.  You could
+'ardly have told it from a paper flower, miss, not from a white
+paper flower.  My plants are my children nowadays, since Albert
+Edward is my only care.  I have been the mother of eleven children,
+miss, all of them living, so far as I know; I know nothing to the
+contrary.  I 'ope you are not wearying of this solitary place,
+miss?  It will grow upon you, I am sure, as it did upon Mrs.
+Pollock, with all her peculiar fancies, and as it 'as grown upon
+us.--We formerly had a butcher's shop in Buffington, and it was
+naturally a great responsibility.  Mr. Heaven's nerves are not
+strong, and at last he wanted a life of more quietude, more
+quietude was what he craved.  The life of a retail butcher is a
+most exciting and wearying one.  Nobody satisfied with their meat;
+as if it mattered in a world of change!  Everybody complaining of
+too much bone or too little fat; nobody wishing tough chops or
+cutlets, but always seeking after fine joints, when it's against
+reason and nature that all joints should be juicy and all cutlets
+tender; always complaining if livers are not sent with every fowl,
+always asking you to remember the trimmin's, always wanting their
+beef well 'ung, and then if you 'ang it a minute too long, it's
+left on your 'ands!  I often used to say to Mr. Heaven, yes many's
+the time I've said it, that if people would think more of the great
+'ereafter and less about their own little stomachs, it would be a
+deal better for them, yes, a deal better, and make it much more
+comfortable for the butchers!"
+
+* * *
+
+Burd Alane has had a good quarter of an hour to-day.
+
+His spouse took a brief promenade with him.  To be sure, it was
+during an absence of the flock on the other side of the hedge so
+that the moral effect of her spasm of wifely loyalty was quite lost
+upon them.  I strongly suspect that she would not have granted
+anything but a secret interview.  What a petty, weak, ignoble
+character!  I really don't like to think so badly of any fellow-
+creature as I am forced to think of that politic, time-serving,
+pusillanimous goose.  I believe she laid the egg that produced the
+idiot gosling!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+
+
+Here follows the true story of Sir Muscovy Drake, the Lady Blanche,
+and Miss Malardina Crippletoes.
+
+Phoebe's flock consisted at first mostly of Brown Mallards, but a
+friend gave her a sitting of eggs warranted to produce a most
+beautiful variety of white ducks.  They were hatched in due time,
+but proved hard to raise, till at length there was only one
+survivor, of such uncommon grace and beauty that we called her the
+Lady Blanche.  Presently a neighbour sold Phoebe his favourite
+Muscovy drake, and these two splendid creatures by "natural
+selection" disdained to notice the rest of the flock, but forming a
+close friendship, wandered in the pleasant paths of duckdom
+together, swimming and eating quite apart from the others.
+
+In the brown flock there was one unfortunate, misshapen from the
+egg, quite lame, and with no smoothness of plumage; but on that
+very account, apparently, or because she was too weak to resist
+them, the others treated her cruelly, biting her and pushing her
+away from the food.
+
+One day it happened that the two ducks--Sir Muscovy and Lady
+Blanche--had come up from the water before the others, and having
+taken their repast were sitting together under the shade of a
+flowering currant-bush, when they chanced to see poor Miss
+Crippletoes very badly used and crowded away from the dish.  Sir
+Muscovy rose to his feet; a few rapid words seemed to pass between
+him and his mate, and then he fell upon the other drake and the
+heartless minions who had persecuted the helpless one, drove them
+far away out of sight, and, returning, went to the corner where the
+victim was cowering, her face to the wall.  He seemed to whisper to
+her, or in some way to convey to her a sense of protection; for
+after a few moments she tremblingly went with him to the dish, and
+hurriedly ate her dinner while he stood by, repulsing the advances
+of the few brown ducks who remained near and seemed inclined to
+attack her.
+
+When she had eaten enough Lady Blanche joined them, and they went
+down the hill together to their favourite swimming-place.  After
+that Miss Crippletoes always followed a little behind her
+protectors, and thus shielded and fed she grew stronger and well-
+feathered, though she was always smaller than she should have been
+and had a lowly manner, keeping a few steps in the rear of her
+superiors and sitting at some distance from their noon resting-
+place.
+
+Phoebe noticed after a while that Lady Blanche was seldom to be
+seen, and Sir Muscovy and Miss Crippletoes often came to their
+meals without her.  The would-be mother refused to inhabit the
+house Phoebe had given her, and for a long time the place she had
+chosen for her sitting could not be found.  At length the Square
+Baby discovered her in a most ideal spot.  A large boulder had
+dropped years ago into the brook that fills our duck-pond; dropped
+and split in halves with the two smooth walls leaning away from
+each other.  A grassy bank towered behind, and on either side of
+the opening, tall bushes made a miniature forest where the romantic
+mother could brood her treasures while her two guardians enjoyed
+the water close by her retreat.
+
+All this happened before my coming to Thornycroft Farm, but it was
+I who named the hero and heroines of the romance when Phoebe had
+told me all the particulars.  Yesterday morning I was sitting by my
+open window.  It was warm, sunny, and still, but in the country
+sounds travel far, and I could hear fowl conversation in various
+parts of the poultry-yard as well as in all the outlying bits of
+territory occupied by our feathered friends.  Hens have only three
+words and a scream in their language, but ducks, having more
+thoughts to express, converse quite fluently, so fluently, in fact,
+that it reminds me of dinner at the Hydropathic Hotel.  I fancy I
+have learned to distinguish seven separate sounds, each varied by
+degrees of intensity, and with upward or downward inflections like
+the Chinese tongue.
+
+In the distance, then, I heard the faint voice of a duck calling as
+if breathless and excited.  While I wondered what was happening, I
+saw Miss Crippletoes struggling up the steep bank above the duck-
+pond.  It was the quickest way from the water to the house, but
+difficult for the little lame webbed feet.  When she reached the
+level grass sward she sank down a moment, exhausted; but when she
+could speak again she cried out, a sharp staccato call, and ran
+forward.
+
+Instantly she was answered from a distant knoll, where for some
+reason Sir Muscovy loved to retire for meditation.  The cries grew
+lower and softer as the birds approached each other, and they met
+at the corner just under my window.  Instantly they put their two
+bills together and the loud cries changed to confiding murmurs.
+Evidently some hurried questions and answers passed between them,
+and then Sir Muscovy waddled rapidly by the quickest path, Miss
+Crippletoes following him at a slower pace, and both passed out of
+sight, using their wings to help their feet down the steep
+declivity.  The next morning, when I wakened early, my first
+thought was to look out, and there on the sunny greensward where
+they were accustomed to be fed, Sir Muscovy, Lady Blanche, and
+their humble maid, Malardina Crippletoes, were scattering their own
+breakfast before the bills of twelve beautiful golden balls of
+ducklings.  The little creatures could never have climbed the bank,
+but must have started from their nest at dawn, coming round by the
+brook to the level at the foot of the garden, and so by slow
+degrees up to the house.
+
+Judging from what I heard and knew of their habits, I am sure the
+excitement of the previous morning was occasioned by the hatching
+of the eggs, and that Lady Blanche had hastily sent her friend to
+call Sir Muscovy, the family remaining together until they could
+bring the babies with them and display their beauty to Phoebe and
+me.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+
+
+July 14th.
+
+We are not wholly without the pleasures of the town in Barbury
+Green.  Once or twice in a summer, late on a Saturday afternoon, a
+procession of red and yellow vans drives into a field near the
+centre of the village.  By the time the vans are unpacked all the
+children in the community are surrounding the gate of entrance.
+There is rifle-shooting, there is fortune-telling, there are games
+of pitch and toss, and swings, and French bagatelle; and, to crown
+all, a wonderful orchestrion that goes by steam.  The water is
+boiled for the public's tea, and at the same time thrilling strains
+of melody are flung into the air.  There is at present only one
+tune in the orchestrion's repertory, but it is a very good tune;
+though after hearing it three hundred and seven times in a single
+afternoon, it pursues one, sleeping and waking, for the next week.
+Phoebe and I took the Square Baby and went in to this diversified
+entertainment.  There was a small crowd of children at the
+entrance, but as none of them seemed to be provided with pennies,
+and I felt in a fairy godmother mood, I offered them the freedom of
+the place at my expense.
+
+I never purchased more radiant good-will for less money, but the
+combined effect of the well-boiled tea and the boiling orchestrion
+produced many village nightmares, so the mothers told me at chapel
+next morning.
+
+* * *
+
+I have many friends in Barbury Green, and often have a pleasant
+chat with the draper, and the watch-maker, and the chemist.
+
+The last house on the principal street is rather an ugly one, with
+especially nice window curtains.  As I was taking my daily walk to
+the post-office (an entirely unfruitful expedition thus far, as
+nobody has taken the pains to write to me) I saw a nursemaid coming
+out of the gate, wheeling a baby in a perambulator.  She was going
+placidly away from the Green when, far in the distance, she espied
+a man walking rapidly toward us, a heavy Gladstone bag in one hand.
+She gazed fixedly for a moment, her eyes brightening and her cheeks
+flushing with pleasure,--whoever it was, it was an unexpected
+arrival;--then she retraced her steps and, running up the garden-
+path, opened the front door and held an excited colloquy with
+somebody; a slender somebody in a nice print gown and neatly-
+dressed hair, who came to the gate and peeped beyond the hedge
+several times, drawing back between peeps with smiles and
+heightened colour.  She did not run down the road, even when she
+had satisfied herself of the identity of the traveller; perhaps
+that would not have been good form in an English village, for there
+were houses on the opposite side of the way.  She waited until he
+opened the gate, the nursemaid took the bag and looked discreetly
+into the hedge, then the mistress slipped her hand through the
+traveller's arm and walked up the path as if she had nothing else
+in the world to wish for.  The nurse had a part in the joy, for she
+lifted the baby out of the perambulator and showed proudly how much
+he had grown.
+
+It was a dear little scene, and I, a passer-by, had shared in it
+and felt better for it.  I think their content was no less because
+part of it had enriched my life, for happiness, like mercy, is
+twice blessed; it blesses those who are most intimately associated
+in it, and it blesses all those who see it, hear it, feel it, touch
+it, or breathe the same atmosphere.  A laughing, crowing baby in a
+house, one cheerful woman singing about her work, a boy whistling
+at the plough, a romance just suspected, with its miracle of two
+hearts melting into one--the wind's always in the west when you
+have any of these wonder-workers in your neighbourhood.
+
+I have talks too, sometimes, with the old parson, who lives in a
+quaint house with "Parva Domus Magna Quies" cut into the stone over
+the doorway.  He is not a preaching parson, but a retired one,
+almost the nicest kind, I often think.
+
+He has been married thirty years, he tells me; thirty years, spent
+in the one little house with the bricks painted red and grey
+alternately, and the scarlet holly-hocks growing under the windows.
+I am sure they have been sweet, true, kind years, and that his
+heart must be a quiet, peaceful place just like his house and
+garden.
+
+"I was only eleven years old when I fell in love with my wife," he
+told me as we sat on the seat under the lime-tree; he puffing
+cosily at his pipe, I plaiting grasses for a hatband.
+
+"It was just before Sunday-school.  Her mother had dressed her all
+in white muslin like a fairy, but she had stepped on the edge of a
+puddle, and some of the muddy water had bespattered her frock.  A
+circle of children had surrounded her, and some of the motherly
+little girls were on their knees rubbing at the spots anxiously,
+while one of them wiped away the tears that were running down her
+pretty cheeks.  I looked!  It was fatal!  I did not look again, but
+I was smitten to the very heart!  I did not speak to her for six
+years, but when I did, it was all right with both of us, thank God!
+and I've been in love with her ever since, when she behaves
+herself!"
+
+That is the way they speak of love in Barbury Green, and oh! how
+much sweeter and more wholesome it is than the language of the
+town!  Who would not be a Goose Girl, "to win the secret of the
+weed's plain heart"?  It seems to me that in society we are always
+gazing at magic-lantern shows, but here we rest our tired eyes with
+looking at the stars.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+
+
+July 16th.
+
+Phoebe and I have been to a Hen Conference at Buffington.  It was
+for the purpose of raising the standard of the British Hen, and our
+local Countess, who is much interested in poultry, was in the
+chair.
+
+It was a very learned body, but Phoebe had coached me so well that
+at the noon recess I could talk confidently with the members,
+discussing the various advantages of True and Crossed Minorcas,
+Feverels, Andalusians, Cochin Chinas, Shanghais, and the White
+Leghorn.  (Phoebe, when she pronounces this word, leaves out the
+"h" and bears down heavily on the last syllable, so that it rhymes
+with begone!)
+
+As I was sitting under the trees waiting for Phoebe to finish some
+shopping in the village, a travelling poultry-dealer came along and
+offered to sell me a silver Wyandotte pullet and cockerel.  This
+was a new breed to me and I asked the price, which proved to be
+more than I should pay for a hat in Bond Street.  I hesitated,
+thinking meantime what a delightful parting gift they would be for
+Phoebe; I mean if we ever should part, which seems more and more
+unlikely, as I shall never leave Thornycroft until somebody comes
+properly to fetch me; indeed, unless the "fetching" is done
+somewhat speedily I may decline to go under any circumstances.  My
+indecision as to the purchase was finally banished when the
+poultryman asserted that the fowls had clear open centres all over,
+black lacing entirely round the white centres, were free from white
+edging, and each had a cherry-red eye.  This catalogue of charms
+inflamed my imagination, though it gave me no mental picture of a
+silver Wyandotte fowl, and I paid the money while the dealer
+crammed the chicks, squawking into my five-o'clock tea-basket.
+
+The afternoon session of the conference was most exciting, for we
+reached the subject of imported eggs, an industry that is assuming
+terrifying proportions.  The London hotel egg comes from Denmark,
+it seems,--I should think by sailing vessel, not steamer, but I may
+be wrong.  After we had settled that the British Hen should be
+protected and encouraged, and agreed solemnly to abstain from
+Danish eggs in any form, and made a resolution stating that our
+loyalty to Queen Alexandra would remain undiminished, we argued the
+subject of hen diet.  There was a great difference of opinion here
+and the discussion was heated; the honorary treasurer standing for
+pulped mangold and flint grit, the chair insisting on barley meal
+and randans, while one eloquent young woman declared, to loud cries
+of "'Ear, 'ear!" that rice pudding and bone chips produce more eggs
+to the square hen than any other sort of food.  Impassioned orators
+arose here and there in the audience demanding recognition for beef
+scraps, charcoal, round corn or buckwheat.  Foods were regarded
+from various standpoints:  as general invigorators, growth
+assisters, and egg producers.  A very handsome young farmer carried
+off final honours, and proved to the satisfaction of all the
+feminine poultry-raisers that green young hog bones fresh cut in
+the Banner Bone Breaker (of which he was the agent) possessed a
+nutritive value not to be expressed in human language.
+
+Phoebe was distinctly nervous when I rose to say a few words on
+poultry breeding, announcing as my topic "Mothers, Stepmothers,
+Foster-Mothers, and Incubators."  Protected by the consciousness
+that no one in the assemblage could possibly know me, I made a
+distinct success in my maiden speech; indeed, I somewhat overshot
+the mark, for the Countess in the chair sent me a note asking me to
+dine with her that evening.  I suppressed the note and took Phoebe
+away before the proceedings were finished, vanishing from the scene
+of my triumphs like a veiled prophet.
+
+Just as we were passing out the door we paused to hear the report
+of a special committee whose chairman read the following
+resolutions:-
+
+WHEREAS,--It has pleased the Almighty to remove from our midst our
+greatest Rose Comb Buff Orpington fancier and esteemed friend,
+Albert Edward Sheridain; therefore be it
+
+RESOLVED,--That the next edition of our catalogue contain an
+illustrated memorial page in his honour and
+
+RESOLVED,--That the Rose Comb Buff Orpington Club extend to the
+bereaved family their heartfelt sympathy.
+
+The handsome young farmer followed us out to our trap, invited us
+to attend the next meeting of the R. C. B. O. Club, of which he was
+the secretary, and asked if I were intending to "show."  I
+introduced Phoebe as the senior partner, and she concealed the fact
+that we possessed but one Buff Orpington, and he was a sad
+"invaleed" not suitable for exhibition.  The farmer's expression as
+he looked at me was almost lover-like, and when he pressed a bit of
+paper into my hand I was sure it must be an offer of marriage.  It
+was in fact only a circular describing the Banner Bone Breaker.  It
+closed with an appeal to Buff Orpington breeders to raise and ever
+raise the standard, bidding them remember, in the midst of a low-
+minded and sordid civilisation, that the rose comb should be small
+and neat, firmly set on, with good working, a nice spike at the
+back lying well down to head, and never, under any circumstances,
+never sticking up.  This adjuration somewhat alarmed us as Phoebe
+and I had been giving our Buff Orpington cockerel the most drastic
+remedies for his languid and prostrate comb.
+
+Coming home we alighted from the trap to gather hogweed for the
+rabbits.  I sat by the wayside lazily and let Phoebe gather the
+appetising weed, which grows along the thorniest hedges in close
+proximity to nettles and thistles.
+
+Workmen were trudging along with their luncheon-baskets of woven
+bulrushes slung over their shoulders.  Fields of ripening grain lay
+on either hand, the sun shining on their every shade of green and
+yellow, bronze and orange, while the breeze stirred the bearded
+barley into a rippling golden sea.
+
+Phoebe asked me if the people I had left behind at the Hydropathic
+were my relatives.
+
+"Some of them are of remote consanguinity," I responded evasively,
+and the next question was hushed upon her awe-stricken tongue, as I
+intended.
+
+"They are obeying my wish to be let alone, there's no doubt of
+that," I was thinking.  "For my part, I like a little more spirit,
+and a little less "letter"!"
+
+As the word "letter" flitted through my thoughts, I pulled one from
+my pocket and glanced through it carelessly.  It arrived, somewhat
+tardily, only last night, or I should not have had it with me.  I
+wore the same dress to the post-office yesterday that I wore to the
+Hen Conference to-day, and so it chanced to be still in the pocket.
+If it had been anything I valued, of course I should have lost or
+destroyed it by mistake; it is only silly, worthless little things
+like this that keep turning up and turning up after one has
+forgotten their existence.
+
+
+"You are a mystery!" [it ran.]  "I can apprehend, but not
+comprehend you.  I know you in part.  I understand various bits of
+your nature; but my knowledge is always fragmentary and
+disconnected, and when I attempt to make a whole of the mosaics I
+merely get a kaleidoscopic effect.  Do you know those geographical
+dissected puzzles that they give to children?  You remind me of one
+of them.
+
+"I have spent many charming (and dangerous) hours trying to "put
+you together"; but I find, when I examine my picture closely, that
+after all I've made a purple mountain grow out of a green tree;
+that my river is running up a steep hillside; and that the pretty
+milkmaid, who should be wandering in the forest, is standing on her
+head with her pail in the air
+
+"Do you understand yourself clearly?  Or is it just possible that
+when you dive to the depths of your own consciousness, you
+sometimes find the pretty milkmaid standing on her head?  I
+wonder!" . . .
+
+
+Ah, well, it is no wonder that he wonders!   So do I, for that
+matter!
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+
+
+July 17th.
+
+Thornycroft Farm seems to be the musical centre of the universe.
+
+When I wake very early in the morning I lie in a drowsy sort of
+dream, trying to disentangle, one from the other, the various bird
+notes, trills, coos, croons, chirps, chirrups, and warbles.
+Suddenly there falls on the air a delicious, liquid, finished song;
+so pure, so mellow, so joyous, that I go to the window and look out
+at the morning world, half awakened, like myself.
+
+There is I know not what charm in a window that does not push up,
+but opens its lattices out into the greenness.  And mine is like a
+little jewelled door, for the sun is shining from behind the
+chimneys and lighting the tiny diamond panes with amber flashes.
+
+A faint delicate haze lies over the meadow, and rising out of it,
+and soaring toward the blue is the lark, flinging out that
+matchless matin song, so rich, so thrilling, so lavish!  As the
+blithe melody fades away, I hear the plaintive ballad-fragments of
+the robin on a curtsying branch near my window; and there is always
+the liquid pipe of the thrush, who must quaff a fairy goblet of dew
+between his songs, I should think, so fresh and eternally young is
+his note.
+
+There is another beautiful song that I follow whenever I hear it,
+straining my eyes to the treetops, yet never finding a bird that I
+can identify as the singer.  Can it be the -
+
+
+"Ousel-cock so black of hue,
+With orange-tawny bill"?
+
+
+He is called the poet-laureate of the primrose time, but I don't
+know whether he sings in midsummer, and I have not seen him
+hereabouts.  I must write and ask my dear Man of the North.  The
+Man of the North, I sometimes think, had a Fairy Grandmother who
+was a robin; and perhaps she made a nest of fresh moss and put him
+in the green wood when he was a wee bairnie, so that he waxed wise
+in bird-lore without knowing it.  At all events, describe to him
+the cock of a head, the glance of an eye, the tip-up of a tail, or
+the sheen of a feather, and he will name you the bird.  Near-
+sighted he is, too, the Man of the North, but that is only for
+people.
+
+The Square Baby and I have a new game.
+
+I bought a doll's table and china tea-set in Buffington.  We put it
+under an apple-tree in the side garden, where the scarlet lightning
+grows so tall and the Madonna lilies stand so white against the
+flaming background.  We built a little fence around it, and every
+afternoon at tea-time we sprinkle seeds and crumbs in the dishes,
+water in the tiny cups, drop a cherry in each of the fruit-plates,
+and have a the chantant for the birdies.  We sometimes invite an
+"invaleed" duckling, or one of the baby rabbits, or the peacock, in
+which case the cards read:-
+
+
+Thornycroft Farm.
+The pleasure of your company is requested
+at a
+The Chantant
+Under the Apple Tree.
+Music at five.
+
+
+It is a charming game, as I say, but I'd far rather play it with
+the Man of the North; he is so much younger than the Square Baby,
+and so much more responsive, too.
+
+Thornycroft Farm is a sweet place, too, of odours as well as
+sounds.  The scent of the hay is for ever in the nostrils, the
+hedges are thick with wild honeysuckle, so deliciously fragrant,
+the last of the June roses are lingering to do their share, and
+blackberry blossoms and ripening fruit as well.
+
+I have never known a place in which it is so easy to be good.  I
+have not said a word, nor scarcely harboured a thought, that was
+not lovely and virtuous since I entered these gates, and yet there
+are those who think me fantastic, difficult, hard to please,
+unreasonable!
+
+I believe the saints must have lived in the country mostly (I am
+certain they never tried Hydropathic hotels), and why anybody with
+a black heart and natural love of wickedness should not simply buy
+a poultry farm and become an angel, I cannot understand.
+
+Living with animals is really a very improving and wholesome kind
+of life, to the person who will allow himself to be influenced by
+their sensible and high-minded ideals.  When you come to think
+about it, man is really the only animal that ever makes a fool of
+himself; the others are highly civilised, and never make mistakes.
+I am going to mention this when I write to somebody, sometime; I
+mean if I ever do.  To be sure, our human life is much more
+complicated than theirs, and I believe when the other animals
+notice our errors of judgment they make allowances.  The bee is as
+busy as a bee, and the beaver works like a beaver, but there their
+responsibility ends.  The bee doesn't have to go about seeing that
+other bees are not crowded into unsanitary tenements or victimised
+by the sweating system.  When the beaver's day of toil is over he
+doesn't have to discuss the sphere, the rights, or the voting
+privileges of beaveresses; all he has to do is to work like a
+beaver, and that is comparatively simple.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+
+
+I have been studying The Young Poultry Keeper's Friend of late.  If
+there is anything I dislike and deplore, it is the possession of
+knowledge which I cannot put to practical use.  Having discovered
+an interesting disease called Scaly Leg in the July number, I took
+the magazine out into the poultry-yard and identified the malady on
+three hens and a cock.  Phoebe joined me in the diagnosis and we
+treated the victims with a carbolic lotion and scrubbed them with
+vaseline.
+
+As Phoebe and I grow wise in medical lore the case of Cannibal Ann
+assumes a different aspect.  As the bibulous man quaffs more and
+more flagons of beer and wine when his daily food is ham, salt
+fish, and cabbage, so does the hen avenge her wrongs of diet and
+woes of environment.  Cannibal Ann, herself, has, so far as we
+know, been raised in a Christian manner and enjoyed all the
+advantages of modern methods; but her maternal parent may have
+lived in some heathen poultry-yard which was asphalted or bricked
+or flagged, so that she was debarred from scratching in Mother
+Earth and was forced to eat her own shells in self-defence.
+
+* * *
+
+The Square Baby is not particularly attracted by the poultry as a
+whole, save when it is boiled with bacon or roasted with bread-
+sauce; but he is much interested in the "invaleeds."  Whenever
+Phoebe and I start for the hospital with the tobacco-pills, the tin
+of paraffin, and the bottle of oil, he is very much in evidence.
+Perhaps he has a natural leaning toward the medical profession; at
+any rate, when pain and anguish wring the brow, he is in close
+attendance upon the ministering angels.
+
+Now it is necessary for the physician to have practice as well as
+theory, so the Square Baby, being left to himself this afternoon,
+proceeded to perfect himself in some of the healing arts used by
+country practitioners.
+
+When discovered, he was seated in front of the wire-covered "run"
+attached to a coop occupied by the youngest goslings.  A couple of
+bottles and a box stood by his side, and I should think he had
+administered a cup of sweet oil, a pint of paraffin, and a quarter
+of a pound of tobacco during his clinic.  He had used the remedies
+impartially, sometimes giving the paraffin internally and rubbing
+the patient's head with tobacco or oil, sometimes the reverse.
+
+Several goslings leaned languidly against the netting, or supported
+themselves by the edge of the water-dish, while others staggered
+and reeled about with eyes half closed.
+
+It was Mrs. Heaven who caught her son red-handed, so to speak.  She
+was dressed in her best, and just driving off to Woodmucket to
+spend a day or two with her married daughter, and soothe her nerves
+with the uproar incident to a town of six hundred inhabitants.  She
+delayed her journey a half-hour--long enough, in fact, to change
+her black silk waist for a loose sacque which would give her arms
+full and comfortable play.  The joy and astonishment that greeted
+the Square Baby on his advent, five years ago, was forgotten for
+the first time in his brief life, and he was treated precisely as
+any ordinary wrongdoer would have been treated under the same
+circumstances, summarily and smartly; the "wepping," as Phoebe
+would say, being Mrs. Heaven's hand.
+
+All but one of the goslings lived, like thousands of others who
+recover in spite of the doctors, but the Square Baby's interest in
+the healing art is now perceptibly lessened.
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+
+
+July 18th.
+
+The day was Friday; Phoebe's day to go to Buffington with eggs and
+chickens and rabbits; her day to solicit orders for ducklings and
+goslings.  The village cart was ready in the stable; Mr. and Mrs.
+Heaven were in Woodmucket; I was eating my breakfast (which I
+remember was an egg and a rasher) when Phoebe came in, a figure of
+woe.
+
+The Square Baby was ill, very ill, and would not permit her to
+leave him and go to market.  Would I look at him?  For he must have
+dowsed 'imself as well as the goslings yesterday; anyways he was
+strong of paraffin and tobacco, though he 'ad 'ad a good barth.
+
+I prescribed for Albert Edward, who was as uncomfortable and
+feverish as any little sinner in the county of Sussex, and I then
+promptly proposed going to Buffington in Phoebe's place.
+
+She did not think it at all proper, and said that, notwithstanding
+my cotton gown and sailor hat, I looked quite, quite the lydy, and
+it would never do.
+
+"I cannot get any new orders," said I, "but I can certainly leave
+the rabbits and eggs at the customary places.  I know Argent's
+Dining Parlours, and Songhurst's Tea Rooms, and the Six Bells Inn,
+as well as you do."
+
+So, donning a pair of Phoebe's large white cotton gloves with open-
+work wrists (than which I always fancy there is no one article that
+so disguises the perfect lydy), I set out upon my travels, upborne
+by a lively sense of amusement that was at least equal to my
+feeling that I was doing Phoebe Heaven a good turn.
+
+Prices in dressed poultry were fluctuating, but I had a copy of The
+Trade Review, issued that very day, and was able to get some idea
+of values and the state of the market as I jogged along.  The
+general movement, I learned, was moderate and of a "selective"
+character.  Choice large capons and ducks were in steady demand,
+but I blushed for my profession when I read that roasting chickens
+were running coarse, staggy, and of irregular value.  Old hens were
+held firmly at sixpence, and it is my experience that they always
+have to be, at whatever price.  Geese were plenty, dull, and weak.
+Old cocks,--why don't they say roosters?--declined to threepence
+ha'penny on Thursday in sympathy with fowls,--and who shall say
+that chivalry is dead?  Turkeys were a trifle steadier, and there
+was a speculative movement in limed eggs.  All this was
+illuminating, and I only wished I were quite certain whether the
+sympathetic old roosters were threepence ha'penny apiece, or a
+pound.
+
+Everything happened as it should, on this first business journey of
+my life, which is equivalent to saying that nothing happened at
+all.  Songhurst's Tea Rooms took five dozen eggs and told me to
+bring six dozen the next week.  Argent's Dining Parlours purchased
+three pairs of chickens and four rabbits.  The Six Bells found the
+last poultry somewhat tough and tasteless; whereupon I said that
+our orders were more than we could possibly fill, still I hoped we
+could go on "selling them," as we never liked to part with old
+customers, no matter how many new ones there were.  Privately, I
+understood the complaint only too well, for I knew the fowls in
+question very intimately.  Two of them were the runaway rooster and
+the gadabout hen that never wanted to go to bed with the others.
+The third was Cannibal Ann.  I should have expected them to be
+tough, but I cannot believe they were lacking in flavour.
+
+The only troublesome feature of the trip was that Mrs. Sowerbutt's
+lodgers had suddenly left for London and she was unable to take the
+four rabbits as she had hoped; but as an offset to that piece of
+ill-fortune the Coke and Coal Yard and the Bicycle Repairing Rooms
+came out into the street, and, stepping up to the trap, requested
+regular weekly deliveries of eggs and chickens, and hoped that I
+would be able to bring them myself.  And so, in a happy frame of
+mind, I turned out of the Buffington main street, and was jogging
+along homeward, when a very startling thing happened; namely, a
+whole verse of the Bailiff's Daughter of Islington:-
+
+
+"And as she went along the high road,
+The weather being hot and dry,
+She sat her down upon a green bank,
+And her true love came riding by."
+
+
+That true lovers are given to riding by, in ballads, I know very
+well, but I hardly supposed they did so in real life, especially
+when every precaution had been taken to avert such a catastrophe.
+I had told the Barbury Green postmistress, on the morning of my
+arrival, not to give the Thornycroft address to anybody whatsoever,
+but finding, as the days passed, that no one was bold enough or
+sensible enough to ask for it, I haughtily withdrew my prohibition.
+About this time I began sending envelopes, carefully addressed in a
+feigned hand, to a certain person at the Oxenbridge Hydro.  These
+envelopes contained no word of writing, but held, on one day, only
+a bit of down from a hen's breast, on another, a goose-quill, on
+another, a glossy tail-feather, on another, a grain of corn, and so
+on.  These trifles were regarded by me not as degrading or
+unmaidenly hints and suggestions, but simply as tests of
+intelligence.  Could a man receive tokens of this sort and fail to
+put two and two together?  I feel that I might possibly support
+life with a domineering and autocratic husband,--and there is every
+prospect that I shall be called upon to do so,--but not with a
+stupid one.  Suppose one were linked for ever to a man capable of
+asking,--"Did YOU send those feathers? . . . How was I to guess? .
+. . How was a fellow to know they came from you? . . . What on
+earth could I suppose they meant? . . . What clue did they offer me
+as to your whereabouts? . . . Am I a Sherlock Holmes?"--No, better
+eternal celibacy than marriage with such a being!
+
+These were the thoughts that had been coursing through my goose-
+girl mind while I had been selling dressed poultry, but in some way
+they had not prepared me for the appearance of the aforesaid true
+love.
+
+To see the very person whom one has left civilisation to avoid is
+always more or less surprising, and to make the meeting less
+likely, Buffington is even farther from Oxenbridge than Barbury
+Green.  The creature was well mounted (ominous, when he came to
+override my caprice!) and he looked bigger, and, yes, handsomer,
+though that doesn't signify, and still more determined than when I
+saw him last; although goodness knows that timidity and feebleness
+of purpose were not in striking evidence on that memorable
+occasion.  I had drawn up under the shade of a tree ostensibly to
+eat some cherries, thinking that if I turned my face away I might
+pass unrecognised.  It was a stupid plan, for if I had whipped up
+the mare and driven on, he of course, would have had to follow, and
+he has too much dignity and self-respect to shriek recriminations
+into a woman's ear from a distance.
+
+He approached with deliberation, reined in his horse, and lifted
+his hat ceremoniously.  He has an extremely shapely head, but I did
+not show that the sight of it melted in the least the ice of my
+resolve; whereupon we talked, not very freely at first,--men are so
+stiff when they consider themselves injured.  However, silence is
+even more embarrassing than conversation, so at length I begin:-
+
+
+Bailiff's Daughter.--"It is a lovely day."
+
+True Love.--"Yes, but the drought is getting rather oppressive,
+don't you think?"
+
+Bailiff's Daughter.--"The crops certainly need rain, and the feed
+is becoming scarce."
+
+True Love.--"Are you a farmer's wife?"
+
+Bailiff's Daughter.--"Oh no! that is a promotion to look forward
+to; I am now only a Goose Girl."
+
+True Love.--"Indeed!  If I wished to be severe I might remark:
+that I am sure you have found at last your true vocation!"
+
+Bailiff's Daughter.--"It was certainly through no desire to please
+YOU that I chose it."
+
+True Love.--"I am quite sure of that!  Are you staying in this
+part?"
+
+Bailiff's Daughter.--"Oh no!  I live many miles distant, over an
+extremely rough road.  And you?"
+
+True Love.--"I am still at the Hydropathic; or at least my luggage
+is there."
+
+Bailiff's Daughter.--"It must be very pleasant to attract you so
+long."
+
+True Love.--"Not so pleasant as it was."
+
+Bailiff's Daughter.--"No?  A new proprietor, I suppose."
+
+True Love.--"No; same proprietor; but the house is empty."
+
+Bailiff's Daughter (yawning purposely).--"That is strange; the
+hotels are usually so full at this season.  Why did so many leave?"
+
+True Love.--"As a matter of fact, only one left.  "Full" and
+"empty" are purely relative terms.  I call a hotel full when it has
+you in it, empty when it hasn't."
+
+Bailiff's Daughter (dying to laugh, but concealing her feelings).--
+"I trust my bulk does not make the same impression on the general
+public!  Well, I won't detain you longer; good afternoon; I must go
+home to my evening work."
+
+True Love.--"I will accompany you."
+
+Bailiff's Daughter.--"If you are a gentleman you will remain where
+you are."
+
+True Love.--"In the road?  Perhaps; but if I am a man I shall
+follow you; they always do, I notice.  What are those foolish
+bundles in the back of that silly cart?"
+
+Bailiff's Daughter.--"Feed for the pony, please, sir; fish for
+dinner; randans and barley meal for the poultry; and four unsold
+rabbits.  Wouldn't you like them?  Only one and sixpence apiece.
+Shot at three o'clock this morning."
+
+True Love.--"Thanks; I don't like mine shot so early."
+
+Bailiff's Daughter.--"Oh, well! doubtless I shall be able to
+dispose of them on my way home, though times is 'ard!"
+
+True Love.--"Do you mean that you will "peddle" them along the
+road?"
+
+Bailiff's Daughter.--"You understand me better than usual,--in fact
+to perfection."
+
+He dismounts and strides to the back of the cart, lifts the covers,
+seizes the rabbits, flings some silver contemptuously into the
+basket, and looks about him for a place to bury his bargain.  A
+small boy approaching in the far distance will probably bag the
+game.
+
+Bailiff's Daughter (modestly).--"Thanks for your trade, sir, rather
+ungraciously bestowed, and we 'opes for a continuance of your past
+fyvors."
+
+True Love (leaning on the wheel of the trap).--"Let us stop this
+nonsense.  What did you hope to gain by running away?"
+
+Bailiff 's Daughter.--"Distance and absence."
+
+True Love.--"You knew you couldn't prevent my offering myself to
+you sometime or other."
+
+Bailiff's Daughter.--"Perhaps not; but I could at least defer it,
+couldn't I?"
+
+True Love.--"Why postpone the inevitable?"
+
+Bailiff's Daughter.--"Doubtless I shrank from giving you the pain
+of a refusal."
+
+True Love.--"Perhaps; but do you know what I suspect?"
+
+Bailiff's Daughter.--"I'm not a suspicious person, thank goodness!"
+
+True Love.--"That, on the contrary, you are wilfully withholding
+from me the joy of acceptance."
+
+Bailiff's Daughter.--"If I intended to accept you, why did I run
+away?"
+
+True Love.--"To make yourself more desirable and precious, I
+suppose."
+
+Bailiff's Daughter (with the most confident coquetry).--"Did I
+succeed?"
+
+True Love.--"No; you failed utterly."
+
+Bailiff's Daughter (secretly piqued).--"Then I am glad I tried it."
+
+True Love.--"You couldn't succeed because you were superlatively
+desirable and precious already; but you should never have
+experimented.  Don't you know that Love is a high explosive?"
+
+Bailiff's Daughter.--"Is it?  Then it ought always to be labelled
+"dangerous," oughtn't it?  But who thought of suggesting matches?
+I'm sure I didn't!"
+
+True Love.--"No such luck; I wish you would."
+
+Bailiff's Daughter.--"According to your theory, if you apply a
+match to Love it is likely to 'go off.'"
+
+True Love.--"I wish you would try it on mine and await the result.
+Come now, you'll have to marry somebody, sometime."
+
+Bailiff's Daughter.--"I confess I don't see the necessity."
+
+True Love (morosely).--"You're the sort of woman men won't leave in
+undisturbed spinsterhood; they'll keep on badgering you."
+
+Bailiff's Daughter.--"Oh, I don't mind the badgering of a number of
+men; it's rather nice.  It's the one badger I find obnoxious."
+
+True Love (impatiently).--"That's just the perversity of things.  I
+could put a stop to the protestations of the many; I should like
+nothing better--but the pertinacity of the one!  Ah, well!  I can't
+drop that without putting an end to my existence."
+
+Bailiff's Daughter (politely).--"I shouldn't think of suggesting
+anything so extreme."
+
+True Love (quoting).--"'Mrs. Hauksbee proceeded to take the conceit
+out of Pluffles as you remove the ribs of an umbrella before re-
+covering.'  However, you couldn't ask me anything seriously that I
+wouldn't do, dear Mistress Perversity."
+
+Bailiff's Daughter (yielding a point).--"I'll put that boldly to
+the proof.  Say you don't love me!"
+
+True Love (seizing his advantage).--"I don't!  It's imbecile and
+besotted devotion!  Tell me, when may I come to take you away?"
+
+Bailiff's Daughter (sighing).--"It's like asking me to leave
+Heaven."
+
+True Love.--"I know it; she told me where to find you,--Thornycroft
+is the seventh poultry-farm I've visited,--but you could never
+leave Heaven, you can't be happy without poultry, why that is a
+wish easily gratified.  I'll get you a farm to-morrow; no, it's
+Saturday, and the real estate offices close at noon, but on Monday,
+without fail.  Your ducks and geese, always carrying it along with
+you.  All you would have to do is to admit me; Heaven is full of
+twos.  If you shall swim on a crystal lake--Phoebe told me what a
+genius you have for getting them out of the muddy pond; she was
+sitting beside it when I called, her hand in that of a straw-
+coloured person named Gladwish, and the ground in her vicinity
+completely strewn with votive offerings.  You shall splash your
+silver sea with an ivory wand; your hens shall have suburban
+cottages, each with its garden; their perches shall be of satin-
+wood and their water dishes of mother-of-pearl.  You shall be the
+Goose Girl and I will be the Swan Herd--simply to be near you--for
+I hate live poultry.  Dost like the picture?  It's a little like
+Claude Melnotte's, I confess.  The fact is I am not quite sane;
+talking with you after a fortnight of the tabbies at the Hydro is
+like quaffing inebriating vodka after Miffin's Food!  May I come
+to-morrow?"
+
+Bailiffs Daughter (hedging).--"I shall be rather busy; the Crossed
+Minorca hen comes off to-morrow."
+
+True Love.--"Oh, never mind!  I'll take her off to-night when I
+escort you to the farm; then she'll get a day's advantage."
+
+Bailiff's Daughter.--"And rob fourteen prospective chicks of a
+mother; nay, lose the chicks themselves?  Never!"
+
+True Love.--"So long as you are a Goose Girl, does it make any
+difference whose you are?  Is it any more agreeable to be Mrs.
+Heaven's Goose Girl than mine?"
+
+Bailiff's Daughter.--"Ah! but in one case the term of service is
+limited; in the other, permanent."
+
+True Love.--"But in the one case you are the slave of the employer,
+in the other the employer of the slave.  Why did you run away?"
+
+Bailiff's Daughter.--"A man's mind is too dull an instrument to
+measure a woman's reason; even my own fails sometimes to deal with
+all its delicate shades; but I think I must have run away chiefly
+to taste the pleasure of being pursued and brought back.  If it is
+necessary to your happiness that you should explore all the
+Bluebeard chambers of my being, I will confess further that it has
+taken you nearly three weeks to accomplish what I supposed you
+would do in three days!"
+
+True Love (after a well-spent interval).--"To-morrow, then; shall
+we say before breakfast?  All, do!  Why not?  Well, then,
+immediately after breakfast, and I breakfast at seven nowadays, and
+sometimes earlier.  Do take off those ugly cotton gloves, dear;
+they are five sizes too large for you, and so rough and baggy to
+the touch!"
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg Etext of The Diary of a Goose Girl, by Wiggin
+
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author	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-15 05:17:53 -0700
committer	Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org>	2025-10-15 05:17:53 -0700
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