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　hennot　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　familiesit　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
  dignif