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　frightthat　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　talenot　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