PUPPIES AND KITTENS
THE DOLLS’ DAY
BY CARINE CADBY
With 29 Illustrations by WILL CADBY
_Daily Graphic._—“Wonderland through the camera. Mrs. Carine Cadby
has had the charming idea of telling in ‘The Dolls’ Day’ exactly what
a little girl who was very fond of dolls dreamed that her dolls did
when they had a day off. Belinda the golden-haired, and Charles the
chubby, and their baby doll disappeared from their cradles while their
protectress Stella was dozing. They roamed through woods and pastures
new; they nearly came to disaster with a strange cat; they found a
friendly Brother Rabbit and a squirrel which showed them the way home.
In short, they wandered through a child’s homely fairyland and came back
safely to be put to bed at night. It is a pretty phantasy, but it is
given an unexpected air of reality by the very clever photographs with
which Mr. Will Cadby points the moral and adorns the tale.”
E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY
[Illustration: Salome.]
PUPPIES AND
KITTENS
And Other Stories
BY
CARINE CADBY
Illustrated with 39 Photographs by
WILL CADBY
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY
681 FIFTH AVENUE
COPYRIGHT, 1920,
BY E. P. DUTTON & COMPANY
_All Rights Reserved_
Printed in the United States of America
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
TWO PUPPIES
I. TIM 1
II. THE PUPPIES 6
III. TIMETTE AND ANN 13
IV. DOGS AND THEIR SENSE OF SMELL 20
V. THE ADVENTURE 29
VI. THE LOST PUPPIES 36
VII. THE SEARCH PARTY 40
VIII. TIMETTE AND ANN FALL OUT 46
IX. TRAINING DOGS 52
X. THE POET DOG 54
SPIDERS AND THEIR WEBS
I. EMMA 63
II. EMMA’S WEB 66
III. A NARROW ESCAPE 74
IV. ABOUT WEBS 77
V. THE LITTLE HOUSE-SPIDER 83
VI. BABY SPIDERS 89
WHAT THE CHICKENS DID
I. JOAN AND THE CANARIES 99
II. THE WORM 106
III. JOAN SAVES A CHICKEN’S LIFE 116
IV. THIRSTY CHICKENS 123
V. THE FIGHT 126
VI. FLUFFY’S RECOVERY 133
VII. HATCHING OUT 136
THE PERSIAN KITTENS AND THEIR FRIENDS
I. TOMPKINS AND MINETTE 145
II. TWO THIEVES 152
III. MINETTE FINDS THE KITCHEN 156
IV. THE KITCHEN KITTENS 161
V. A SURPRISING CONVERSATION 167
VI. THE RETURN VISIT 175
VII. THE VISITORS’ TEA 181
VIII. SALOME TO THE RESCUE 186
IX. MISJUDGED KITTENS 189
X. SALOME GIVES A LECTURE 196
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Salome _Frontispiece_
PAGE
He would lean over the back of a chair 3
The Puppies 7
They slept and slept 11
Timette and Ann 15
“Here you see us with Papa” 21
“All the happy livelong day
We eat and sleep and laze and play” 27
“Except when only one bone’s there
And Sis takes care that I shan’t share” 31
“What a pity you should be
Such a greedy little she” 37
“This they say is not quite right,
But who can keep still in the midst of a fight?” 43
“We’re good dogs now and once more friends,”
And so my doggy story ends 49
She looked so wise and grave 55
The spider in the web 62
A beautiful regular pattern 67
A fly struggling in the web 71
A beautiful web 79
A snare 85
Spiders love fine weather 91
When anything alarming comes along they will all rush
back to Mother Hen 101
A little tapping sound 103
Dolly found a worm 107
Cheeky dashing off with the prize 109
Made them take some grain out of her hand 113
It is very funny to see chickens drink 121
They began to fight 127
He fell over and lay quite still as if he were dead 131
One had still a bit of shell sticking to his back 139
Salome 144
The two kittens arched their backs 147
Two little heads very busy with the saucer 153
Tibby was much too busy to take any notice of a
little kitten 157
They had got hold of the waste-paper basket 163
Tried to take a photograph 171
A perfect bunch of bad temper 173
“Hunt the thimble” 177
She pushed the jug over with her paw 183
Pussy pretended to be her daughter 191
“You may look little angels, but you are nothing but
little imps of mischief” 193
Sauntered grandly out of the room 197
PUPPIES AND KITTENS
TWO PUPPIES
CHAPTER I
TIM
Some dogs love being photographed and others simply hate it. We once had
a dog called Tim who was determined to be in every photograph. It didn’t
matter what we were trying to take, Tim would do his best to push in. And
the worst of it was that when you were busy with the camera you couldn’t
be looking after Tim at the same time, and he would somehow manage to get
into the picture. Perhaps he hadn’t got in quite far enough, in which
case you would see only a bit of him, which was worst of all.
So you may be sure we had no trouble with him if ever we wanted to pose
him for a photograph. Tim was a proud dog then, and he would sit or
stand any way we liked; the only bother was to keep his tail still, for
being so pleased, he couldn’t resist wagging it.
I believe you would have liked Tim because, of course, you are fond of
dogs, and he was an adorable dog. He was very sociable and hated being
left out of anything, so that if two or three of us were chatting, Tim
would jump on a chair and join the party. He would lean over the back,
gazing so intelligently into our faces, that it really seemed as if he
were talking, too.
A dog’s love for his people is a curious and beautiful thing. Tim did not
mind how uncomfortable he was as long as he could be near them. He had
once been known to give up his dinner to follow them when they went for a
walk. Perhaps he was not as hungry as usual that day.
[Illustration: He would lean over the back of a chair.]
We had another dog with Tim called Tess who hated the sight of a camera.
We wanted to get a photograph of her and Tim sitting up together, but
she was determined we shouldn’t. As soon as we had placed them in a good
position and were ready to begin, that silly Tess would tumble on her
back with her legs sticking up in the air, and how could you photograph a
dog like that! We tried scolding her, but that only made matters worse,
for she simply wouldn’t sit up at all, and as soon as we had dragged her
on to her feet—flop, over she would go again! At last we had to give it
up as a bad job.
Tess had five jolly little puppies, three boys and two girls, and as soon
as ever the pups could get on without their mother, she was sent away.
She went to some kind people who never wanted to photograph their dogs
and where she would get heaps and heaps to eat, for I must tell you, Tess
was rather a greedy dog and not as faithful and affectionate as Tim.
CHAPTER II
THE PUPPIES
Tim was very good to the puppies. Naturally, he didn’t trouble himself
about them quite like a mother, but he was never snappy or disagreeable.
Even when they played all over him and nibbled his ears he never growled
like some father dogs might have done.
One day we wanted to take a picture of the puppies sitting in a row,
little thinking the difficult job it was going to be. Of course, Tim kept
sitting just in front of the camera, so before we began he had to be
taken indoors.
[Illustration: The Puppies.]
At first the puppies were all good except the two girls, Timette and Ann.
They wouldn’t stay where they were put, but kept waddling away as if they
had some very important business of their own. As soon as Ann was caught
and put back, Timette would wander off, and when she was caught, Ann was
off again and so it went on. It was lucky there were two of us, but we
were both kept busy. Then the other puppies didn’t see why they shouldn’t
have some fun and they began wandering away, too. There was only one
thing to be done with the two naughty pups who had set such a bad example
and that was to give them a whipping. Of course, not a real one, for they
were such babies they couldn’t understand, but just a few mild pats to
keep them still. You would have laughed to see their puzzled faces, for
they were not sure what the pats meant and rather thought it was some new
game. After this Ann was placed in the middle of the group, where she
promptly went to sleep, and Timette was put at the end of the row, where
she sat blinking as sleepily as you do when it is long past your bedtime.
Timette and Ann had never been so tired in their short lives. First of
all, the running away and always being brought back, then being made to
sit in one place, and after that the new game of pats had been too much
for the babies, and when it was over they slept and slept as if they
never meant to wake up again.
I wonder what they said to each other about it afterwards. I daresay the
three other puppies laughed at them and probably made believe they had
understood all along that they were expected to sit still. When old Tim
came out again they told him all about it. “We tried hard to get away,”
said Timette, and Ann joined in, “We tried and tried over and over again,
but each time we were brought back.” Then the other puppies explained
about the pats. “I see,” said Tim, “now I understand you have had your
first whipping for disobedience; take care it is the last.”
[Illustration: They slept and slept.]
CHAPTER III
TIMETTE AND ANN
When the puppies grew a little older, people used to come and look at
them, and soon the three boy puppies were sold and taken to new homes.
Timette and Ann missed their brothers; it seemed funny to be such a small
family and they did their best to entice old Tim to play with them. But
he was too grown-up and dignified and rather slow in moving about, so it
was not altogether a success. In the middle of a game he would prick up
his ears and listen as if he heard some one calling him. And often he
would trot off, pretending he was wanted elsewhere, just as an excuse to
get away from the rough, romping pups.
Timette was given her name because she was so like Tim, and Ann hers
because, as she was rather old-fashioned looking, it seemed to suit her.
The puppies were very much alike, so only those who knew them well could
tell them apart, but in character they were very different. Ann was
gentle and timid, while Timette was a thorough tomboy, full of spirits
and mischief and as bold as a lion.
And now I am going to tell you about the first adventure they had. They
lived in a garden that ran into a wood. It was rather difficult to see
just where the garden ended and the wood began, for they were only
separated by a wire.
Now, Timette and Ann knew that they were not supposed to go out of the
garden where they had plenty to amuse them: an india-rubber ball, a piece
of wood that looked like a bone, and a bit of rag that did for playing
“Tug-of-war.” Ann never had the least wish to wander, for she was much
too timid. But, as I said, Timette was different; she was simply longing
to go into the wood and have some adventures. She kept talking to Ann
about it, making most tempting suggestions and persuading her to go.
[Illustration: TIMETTE AND ANN.
“Two little Airedale pups are we,
Shaggy of coat and of gender ‘she.’”]
“Look at old Tim,” she said; “he often takes a walk by himself, and he
never comes to any harm.”
“That’s all very well,” Ann answered; “he’s old, and he can take care of
himself.”
“Well, and why can’t we take care of ourselves?”
“Because I believe there are wild animals that would eat us up.”
“Whatever makes you think that?” asked Timette, for she knew Ann had very
sharp ears and keen scent; “do you smell or hear them?”
“Both,” replied Ann, “only this morning I smelt that some animal had been
in the garden. I got on its track and followed it down to the cabbages
and back to the wood again.”
“I don’t think much of an animal who only goes after cabbages,” Timette
interrupted.
“There are others, too,” continued Ann, “I often hear very strange
scratching noises like animals running up trees with terribly sharp
claws,” and Ann gave a little shudder.
“Well, what of it?” said Timette boldly. “I shouldn’t mind their claws as
long as the animals weren’t bigger than I am.”
“But they might run after us,” suggested Ann.
“They wouldn’t run after me,” boasted Timette, “for I should be running
after them!”
“Would you really?” asked Ann, and she sighed, wishing she were as brave
as her sister.
“I should say so,” said Timette, “if only you would come, too, we might
even catch one. Think what fun that would be.”
“It certainly would,” replied Ann. “Oh, how I should love it!”
“Well, come along,” urged Timette, and Ann came along, and that is how
the adventure began.
CHAPTER IV
DOGS AND THEIR SENSE OF SMELL
This conversation took place after the puppies had eaten their dinner and
were supposed to be taking their afternoon nap. Tim was stretched out on
the lawn in the sun, having a doze, and no one was about. The two puppies
slunk off quietly into the wood and no one saw them go.
The wood was very exciting; there were such strange smells about, and
when the puppies put their noses to the ground they began to find out all
sorts of animal secrets. And now, before we go any further with Timette
and Ann into the wood, I must just tell you a little about dogs and their
clever noses or you will be wondering why these puppies talked so much
about smells.
[Illustration:
“Here you see us with Papa;
They sent away our dear Mamma.”]
Hundreds of years ago, when there were no maps or books or papers,
people could find out all kinds of wonderful things by their noses. Your
nose now will tell you the difference between the smell of a violet
and strawberry jam and other things, but when you know what a dog can
discover by its sense of smell, you will see how feeble yours is.
A dog will know who has been along the road by smelling the footsteps.
Although it cannot read the way on a sign-post it can smell out the way
to places and follow any one who has been along, even if it was some time
ago.
You wouldn’t know if a friend had been to see you while you were out
unless you were told, but a dog would know as soon as he came back; he
wouldn’t be obliged to ask, for he would know just who it was. If the
friend had brought another little dog, too, your own dog would be so
excited he would probably try to tell you all about it, and yet he was
away when it happened.
The road is as interesting to a dog as the most thrilling story book is
to you. It may look just an empty road, but to a dog it has all sorts of
messages that conjure up pictures. He knows, for instance, that another
dog has traveled there and can tell what kind of dog it was. By and by
his nose tells him this dog found a rabbit and caught it. Then he finds
out a bigger dog came along and chased the first dog and got the rabbit.
At least, did he get the rabbit? He is puzzled and sniffs hard round one
spot. It is exciting news he is finding out and you can see his tail
wagging with eagerness. No, it seems, neither dog got the rabbit, for
bunny was too sharp and between the two managed to get away. If a dog can
find out all this by his sense of smell you may guess he can easily track
the rabbit to its hole, and there he sits probably waiting for it to
come out and give him the chance of a little sport, too.
Haven’t you often seen your dog stop suddenly when he is coming towards
you and hold his head in the air? You must have wondered why he didn’t
come straight on. He has probably had a message, a scent blown on the
wind, which like a wireless, tells him a rat has just crossed the road
and is somewhere in the hedge if he will only go and look. And so it goes
on; there is not a dull moment in his walk.
To a dog every one has his own particular smell which never deceives him.
If you dress yourself up you may puzzle your dog’s eyes for a little
while. He may even bark at you as if you were a stranger, but once let
him get near enough to smell you and it is all over. He will wag his tail
and look up at you, as much as to say, “Did you really think you could
take me in?” So you can understand why dogs when out hate to be made to
come to heel, as they miss all the fun of the walk, and have no chances
to stop and read the interesting smells that tell them so much.
[Illustration:
“All the happy, livelong day,
We eat and sleep and laze and play.”]
CHAPTER V
THE ADVENTURE
And now we must go back to Timette and Ann and their adventure.
“The tree-climbing animal has been up here,” cried Ann, sniffing at the
bark of a tree. And when they looked up they saw a brown squirrel peeping
at them from a branch.
“Come down! come down! come down at once!” barked the puppies, but Mr.
Squirrel was too wise for that. He knew that even with such baby dogs it
wouldn’t be quite safe to trust himself on the ground.
“I don’t call that playing fair,” Ann called out, jumping up at the tree
and wishing she could climb it. But the squirrel just sat tight.
Presently Timette smelt an enticing smell and dived into some bushes,
while Ann anxiously watched and waited. She could hear Timette working
about and breathing hard.
“Hi, hi, hi!” shrieked a big bird as it flew out. Timette dashed after
it, but it rose in the air and left her looking very surprised. “Well,
that was a sell!” she said.
Ann meanwhile was busy with her nose on the ground. There were a number
of insects crawling about; they had no smell to speak of, but they moved
quickly, which was rather fun. Once she chased a big hairy buzzing thing.
It settled on a bit of heather and she nearly caught it, but luckily not
quite, for it was a bumble bee.
[Illustration:
“Except when only one bone’s there,
And Sis takes care that I shan’t share.”]
Timette didn’t care for the beetles; they were feeble sport for a dog,
she thought, and putting her nose in the air she caught a most wonderful
smell. She gave a short bark of delight and started running about to
find it on the ground. Ann looked up and she too caught the message
and was as busy as Timette. It was a most enticing scent: furry and
alive and gamey so that it promised real sport. As soon as the puppies
really got on to it, they put their noses to the ground and followed it
up, their little stumpy tails wagging hard. Their instinct told them it
was not an animal that could hurt them, but one their mother and father
and grandfathers and great-grandfathers had chased, so you can’t blame
Timette and Ann for following up the scent of a rabbit.
But although rabbits are often killed by dogs, they are not silly enough
to allow themselves to be caught by two young, inexperienced puppies. The
rabbit they chased was an old one who had his wits too much about him to
be even very afraid. You will laugh when I tell you that he didn’t even
trouble himself to hurry and just ambled along to a hole and popped down
it.
This hole had been the chief entrance to his burrow, and he and his
big family had used it so often that it was worn quite wide and smooth.
The artful old rabbit, however, only went a little way down it, then he
turned to one side and went up another little passage and out into the
wood and off again.
The puppies came dashing along, giving little short barks of delight at
the sport. They followed the scent to the hole, and without stopping they
plunged right into what looked to them like a dark tunnel. Of course,
they were in much too great a hurry to notice the little passage where
the old rabbit had turned aside, and just pushed on as hard as they
could. The tunnel wound downhill and grew narrower and narrower as they
went on. Timette was leading and she called back to Ann, “Can _you_ smell
anything? _I_ have lost the scent.”
“So have I,” Ann answered, and then as she was feeling nervous in the
dark, she added, “Let’s go back.”
“No, it’s all right!” cried Timette, “we had better go on, I can see
daylight and smell the open air.”
This was a good thing, for the fat puppies would have found it very
difficult to turn round in such a small space. At the end the hole grew
so narrow that Timette had to squeeze to get through, and when Ann
crawled out, some of the roof fell in and there was no more hole to be
seen.
CHAPTER VI
THE LOST PUPPIES
The puppies found themselves in a hole in two senses of the word. It
wasn’t a nice hole either, but a deep one, cold and damp, too, and with
no enticing smells. It had once been the home of a lot of rabbits, but it
had all been dug up, and the only smell about it now was that of a cold
dull spade.
“I want to go home,” whimpered Ann.
“So do I, Cry-baby,” said Timette, “but we shall have to climb out of
here first.”
[Illustration:
“What a pity you should be
Such a greedy little she!”]
Then they both stood on their hind legs and stretched up the sides of
the hole, and when this was no good they gave little feeble jumps. A
child would have managed to scramble out somehow, and kittens could have
reached the top in a twinkling; but puppies are so clumsy and helpless,
and poor Timette and Ann’s struggles were all in vain. They only fell on
their backs, and at last got so hurt and tired they gave it up. It was
their teatime, too, and they were feeling hungry as well as unhappy, and
you know how bad that is.
Ann cried, “Oh, I do want my bread and milk! I’m so hungry. Oh! oh! oh!”
And Timette began crying, too, “We’re lost, we’re lost! Oh, do come and
find us!” and then they both howled as loudly as ever they could, “Help,
help, help!” But no one came and all was quiet.
Poor puppies! how miserable and lonely they felt! It did seem hard that
no one should trouble about them, and when they couldn’t cry any longer
they curled themselves up as close as they could to each other and went
to sleep. They were like the lost “Babes in the Wood.”
CHAPTER VII
THE SEARCH PARTY
And now I want to tell you what was happening at home. A little girl
called Ruth, who was very fond of the puppies, came to see them on her
way home from a party. She loved playing with them, and the first thing
she said when she ran in was, “I am just going to say good-night to
Timette and Ann,” and was off into the garden to find them.
But, alas! there were no puppies to be found. There was the india-rubber
ball and the stick and the bit of rag, all looking very lonely, but no
sign of the puppies. Ruth was very puzzled. “What have you done with
them?” she asked Tim, who was sitting up looking rather worried. He gave
his tail a flop and his brown human eyes seemed to say, “It really
wasn’t my fault; they ran away without asking me.”
Ruth felt sure they couldn’t be so very far off, as they were too babyish
to be able to stray a great distance, and that with Tim’s help she would
be able to find them. She ran back to tell us the news and that she and
Tim were going out as a search party to look for the lost ones.
“Don’t be long,” we called after her, “remember your bedtime.”
“As if I could go to bed while the darlings are lost!” we heard her say.
We watched them go into the wood, Tim barking round Ruth most excitedly.
He seemed to know there was serious business on hand, for instead of
dashing off to chase rabbits, he kept near her and often put his nose
to the ground. “We’ve got to find those puppies,” Ruth told him. Soon
he gave a sharp bark and ran ahead of her, looking round and saying as
plainly as he could, “You just follow me.” Ruth understood dogs as well
as she loved them, and she trusted Tim and followed where he led.
In a few minutes they had reached the hole. The puppies woke up to see
Ruth and Tim standing looking down on them. Oh, what a noise they made!
I can’t tell you how delighted they were. It seemed like waking up from
a bad dream. You couldn’t have heard yourself speak, for there was Tim
barking, Ruth calling them all the pet names she could think of, and the
puppies themselves simply shrieking with joy. Ruth soon jumped down into
the hole, and when we came up there she was hugging the puppies who were
covering her face with their wet sticky kisses, giving little sobbing
cries as if they wanted to tell her over and over again how glad they
were to be found, and to thank her for getting them out of the nasty
hole. Ruth carried them home in her arms, talking to them all the way,
while Tim stalked along by her side with a proud and injured air that
plainly said, “Well, after all, it was really I who found them and I
think you might make a little more fuss with me.”
[Illustration:
“This they say is not quite right;
But who can keep still in the midst of a fight?”]
CHAPTER VIII
TIMETTE AND ANN FALL OUT
Puppies don’t have meat to eat; they don’t really need it till they are
grown up. However, sometimes as a great treat, Timette and Ann would be
given a bone. They always had one each, because being rather jealous
dogs they might have quarreled over one. Tim, too, always had a bone to
himself. One day the cook threw Tim a bone, but he had gone off for a
saunter in the wood, and the puppies rushed to get the prize. Timette
was first and, with a bound, was on top of it. But she had jumped just
too far and Ann quickly dived in and snatched it from under her. Poor
Timette! her baby face looked so disappointed. “Well, you are a greedy
pig,” she said; “you might let me have a bit.”
“Go away,” said Ann, and she went on calmly nibbling.
Then Timette made a dash for it, but Ann was prepared and wheeled round,
the bone safely in her mouth. Timette tried again, but Ann was too
artful; she just held on to the bone with her paws as well as her teeth
and gave a little growl when Timette came too near.
At last Timette’s patience gave way, and with an angry cry she hurled
herself at Ann. Ann at once turned on her and bit her ear, and then they
got muddled up, both trying to bite as hard as they could. The bone was
forgotten, for both puppies were in a rage. They fought almost savagely
like big dogs and neither would give in. They made such a noise about it,
too, that we came out to see what was the matter, and as they wouldn’t
stop, we had to separate them. In the end Ann got rather the worst of it,
which served her right for being so greedy over the bone. She was not
much hurt, though, for Timette had only her puppy teeth, and they can’t
bite really hard, although they are very sharp.
When it was over, they were both rather sulky and gave each other long
scowling looks. Timette took the bone and kept it all the afternoon. Ann
looked the other way, pretending she no longer wanted it. In the end we
took it away altogether, and after that they were quite good friends
again, ate their evening bread and milk in peace and went to sleep curled
up together.
[Illustration:
“We’re good dogs now, and once more friends,”
And so my doggy story ends.]
CHAPTER IX
TRAINING DOGS
Dogs are very like children who never grow up. But a child would have to
have a very loving heart to be as fond of any one as a dog. A dog is so
faithful, too; he never tires of people or thinks them wrong or unfair,
and he is just as devoted and obedient to them however old he gets. He
is always trying to please them and is miserable and unhappy when he
fails. That is why it is so easy to train a dog; you only have to make
him understand what you want and he will try and do it. If dogs could
understand all our language, you would only have to say to your dog,
“Don’t walk on the flower-beds,” or “don’t take anything off the table,”
or “don’t bark when we want to go to sleep,” and he would obey you. This
doesn’t mean that dogs are never naughty; I know they are sometimes, but
before you punish a dog you should be quite sure he understands what it
is for. If he is an intelligent dog, a scolding will often do as well
as a whipping. Tim only had a whipping once in his life, and yet he was
a very well trained dog. He was taught not to go across the beds in the
garden by being called off and made to go round, and he never stole after
he had taken one piece of cake.
I must tell you about that. It was really not quite his fault, for it
was on a very low table, and being rather new I expect it smelt extra
tempting. He was made to feel horribly ashamed. Ever afterwards the cake
plate was shown him with reproachful remarks, such as “Oh, Tim, how
could you! Oh, fie, what a wicked thief!” till he would turn his head
away as if he hated the sight of the stupid old cake and wished we would
stop teasing him. After this he could be trusted never to take anything
however near the ground it was, and no matter how long he was left alone
with it.
One day the tea had been taken into the garden. Tim, of course, could be
trusted, but the puppies had been forgotten. When he came out there was
Tim sitting up with a very dejected look, and the two naughty puppies
busy with the bread-and-butter, some crumbs on their shaggy mouths being
all that was left of the cake!
“Did they get a whipping?” you ask.
Well, when we found all our nice cake gone we did feel inclined to give
them some pats, but then they were too much of babies to understand, so
they had a shaking and a scolding and were shut up for the rest of the
afternoon. Tim soon got more cheery when we petted him up and told him it
wasn’t his fault.
CHAPTER X
THE POET DOG
When Ann grew up she was given to Ruth as a birthday present; or to be
quite truthful, she gave herself, for she was so fond of Ruth that she
followed her about everywhere, and would stay with no one else.
She was a very sedate and serious animal; she might almost have been an
old lady dog. You would have thought by the look of her she was wrapped
in deep thought and that if only she could have spoken it would have been
about very clever things.
[Illustration: She looked so wise and grave.]
Ruth would have it she was making up poetry. The fact was Ruth was making
up poetry herself, and when we are thinking hard of any subject we are
inclined to imagine other people are, too. Just now Ruth was busy making
verses and rhymes and thought Ann must be doing the same.
Ruth was rather shy over her poetry; she hadn’t told any one about it,
she was too afraid they might laugh at her. And yet she badly wanted to
know what they would think of it.
One day she sat Ann up in a chair at a table with pen and ink and paper
in front of her. She looked so wise and grave that you could quite well
imagine her a poet. And when Ruth called us in to look at her, there sure
enough were some verses written.
“Look what Ann has made up,” cried Ruth. “I told you she was thinking of
poetry.”
“How wonderful!” we said, for we saw whose writing it was. “Clever Ann!
who will read it out?”
“I think Ann would like me to,” replied Ruth, who was glad to get this
chance to read her own verses, “the poem is supposed to be about Ann’s
young days when she and Timette were puppies.”
“How very interesting,” we remarked.
“Now I’ll begin,” said Ruth, with rather a red face, “it is supposed to
be Timette speaking.”
“But why Timette?” we asked. “Why isn’t it Ann herself speaking?”
“Because she is a poet,” Ruth explained, “and poets always have to
pretend to be some one else.”
Then she read these verses:—
“Two little Airedale pups are we,
Shaggy of coat and of gender ‘she.’
“Here you see us with papa,
They sent away our dear mamma.
“All the happy livelong day
We eat and sleep and laze and play.
“Except when only one bone’s there
And Sis takes care that I shan’t share.
“What a pity you should be
Such a greedy little she!
“This they say is not quite right,
But who can keep still in the midst of a fight?
“We’re good dogs now and once more friends,
And so my doggy story ends.”
[Illustration: The Spider in the Web.]
SPIDERS AND THEIR WEBS
CHAPTER I
EMMA
“Spiders!” you say. “Ugh! what dreadful things. I don’t want to read
about them.” But surely any one as big as you are need not be afraid of
a poor little spider. Don’t you remember when “there came a big spider
and sat down beside her” it was _little_ Miss Moffat that was frightened
away, and I don’t suppose she was much more than a baby.
You are quite a big boy or girl or you wouldn’t be able to read this,
and spiders are really so clever and interesting that I believe you will
enjoy hearing a little about them. Let us look at the picture of the
spider in the web and pretend it is a real one; and shall we give it a
name? I don’t believe Miss Moffat would have been frightened if she had
known a little more about it, or if it had a name, so we will call this
little spider “Emma.”
Emma is a girl spider and she will grow up ever so much bigger than
any boy spider. It is rather topsy-turvy in the spider world, for the
she-spiders are not only bigger but much stronger and fiercer than the
little he-spiders, and they are quarrelsome, too, and love a fight. This
need not make you think Emma is going to be savage with you; she would be
much too afraid, for you are a big giant to her. It is only with other
spiders and insects her own size she will fight.
When Emma was younger she was a light green color, but as she gets older
she grows darker and darker and different markings come out on her back.
As you grow, your clothes get too small for you and you have to have new
ones or a tuck is let down. This is the same with Emma, only, as her
coat happens to be her skin as well, it is no good thinking about a tuck.
I don’t know how many new frocks you have, but Emma has changed hers
seven times before she was grown up.
If you look closely at a real spider you will see it has hairs on its
body and on its legs. Emma, too, has these same fine hairs which are very
important. She can neither see nor hear very well, so these hairs, which
are sensitive, can warn her of danger. They feel the least trembling of
the web and are even conscious of sound, so you see how useful they are.
The spider is rather a lonely person and not at all sociable. Perhaps
this is because she has to work so hard for a living. In fact, all her
time, day and night, seems taken up either with making or repairing the
web, and lying in wait, when she dozes far back in her little shelter out
of sight, with one hand always on the tell-tale cord that connects with
the web and lets her know of its slightest movement.
CHAPTER II
EMMA’S WEB
And now I am afraid you are finding this rather dry, and if I don’t tell
you a story you will be frightened away like Miss Moffat.
[Illustration: A beautiful, regular pattern.]
One day Emma felt very hungry; her larder was quite empty and she had
been without food for nearly a week. It was a fine evening, with just
a gentle little wind blowing, so she thought she would try a new place
for her web, where it would have a better chance of catching something.
She climbed up fairly high and then let herself drop with all her legs
stretched out, spinning all the time the thread by which she was hanging.
Then she climbed up it, spinning another thread, and when she had like
this spun some nice strong sticky threads she waited for the wind to
carry them on to some branches of furze. When these held, Emma ran along
them, fastened them firmly and spun a fresh thread each time till she
made a line that was strong and elastic, and so not likely to break
easily. When she was satisfied it would bear the weight of the web,
she spun struts from it to hold it firm and then began the web itself.
She first made a kind of outline and then spun and worked towards the
middle. It was wonderful to see what a beautiful regular pattern she was
spinning, with nothing but her instinct to guide her.
You know when a house is being built it has tall poles all round it
called scaffolding, which helps the building; well, the first outline of
the web was Emma’s scaffolding, and when it was no longer wanted she got
rid of it by eating it up!
“But how did Emma spin a thread?” I can hear you asking.
It is like this—suppose you had a ball of silk in your pocket and ran
about twisting it round trees to make a big net. This is really what
the spider does, but the silk comes from inside her and will never come
to an end like the ball in your pocket. It issues from what are called
spinnerets. When she lets herself drop, the spinnerets regulate the
thread, but when she is running along spinning she uses two of her back
legs to pay it out, just as you would have to use your hands to pull the
silk out of your pocket. It is a pity spiders usually spin their webs at
night, so that we seldom get a chance of watching them.
I said just now that Emma’s silk never comes to an end, but sometimes if
a very big fly or wasp gets caught in her net she has to use a great deal
of her silk, which she winds round and round the fly, binding him hand
and foot, and then her stock of thread which is carried inside her may
run low; but it soon comes again, especially if she gets a good meal and
a nice long rest.
[Illustration: A fly struggling in her web.]
When Emma had finished she was pleased with the look of her web and hid
herself at the side of it under a furze branch. She watched and waited.
She waited all night long and nothing happened.
CHAPTER III
A NARROW ESCAPE
In the morning she was still watching and waiting, but at last there was
a sound. A deep humming was heard in the air as if a fairy aeroplane
were passing. It was so loud that even deaf Emma might have heard it if
she had not been too busy. Just then, however, her hairs had received
a wireless message to say there was a catch at the far end of her web.
Although a spider is much more patient than you, and can sit still a
long time, it is a quick mover when there is need for speed. Emma darted
out like a flash of lightning and found a fly struggling in her web. It
was a very small thin one, and poor hungry Emma was disappointed not to
see a larger joint for her larder. She quickly settled it, however, and
spun some web round it to wrap it up, for, after all, it was something to
eat and so worth taking care of. She was still busy with her parcel when
“Buzz, buzz, buzz,” the whole web gave a big jump and there quite close
to Emma was a huge, terrible beast. A great angry yellow wasp, making
frightful growling noises and struggling desperately to get out of the
web. Poor Emma wasn’t very old or daring and she knew the danger she was
in, for this savage monster could kill her easily with his sting. He was
fighting hard against the sticky meshes of the web and jerking himself
nearer to her. She was too frightened to move, and for a minute she hung
on to her web limp and motionless looking like a poor little dead spider.
Then something happened. The wind blew a little puff, the wasp put out
all his strength and gave a twist, the web already torn broke into a big
hole and the great yellow beast was free. He glared at Emma and hovered
over her, buzzing furiously. He would have liked to kill her, but luckily
he was too afraid of getting tangled up again in that sticky, clinging
web, so, grumbling loudly, he flew away.
“What did Emma do?”
Well, she quickly got over her fright and I think she had a little lunch
off her lean fly; then she looked at her web and was sorry to see it so
torn and spoilt. The best thing to do was to mend it then and there, and
as a spider always has more silk in her pocket, so to speak, she was able
to do it at once. She repaired it so well that it didn’t look a bit as if
it had been patched but just as if the new piece had always been there,
the pattern was just as perfect.
CHAPTER IV
ABOUT WEBS
I don’t believe you are feeling a bit afraid of spiders now, are you?
There is no reason why we should fear them, for they don’t bite or sting
us; and if they did the poison that paralyses and kills their prey
would not hurt us. Besides, they kill the insects that harm us. I saw a
spider’s web once full of mosquitoes, and you know what worrying little
pests they are. I was glad to see so many caught, but sorry for the
spider, as they didn’t look a very substantial meal. Then you know how
dangerous flies have been found to be, making people ill by poisoning
their food, so it is a good thing that spiders help us to get rid of
them.
Another reason to like spiders is for their webs. There is no animal or
insect that makes anything quite so wonderful and beautiful as what these
little creatures spin.
The spider’s web is really a snare for catching her food. The strands
of it are so fine as often to be invisible in some lights even in the
daytime, and of course quite invisible at night. Sometimes the beetle or
flying insect is so strong that he can tear the web and get free, but not
often, for the spider can do wonders with her thread. She spins ropes and
throws them at her big prey and doesn’t go near it till it is bound and
helpless.
Of course, there are many different kinds of spiders who spin different
kinds of webs. In a hotter country than this there is one that is as big
or rather bigger than your hand, and another called the Tarantula whose
bite is supposed to be so poisonous that it can kill people, but this is
very exaggerated.
[Illustration: A Beautiful Web.]
As the spider’s web is only her snare, she naturally has to have some
kind of home, which must be quite near to her place of business. If
you look very close and follow one of the strands of the web you will
find some little dark cranny where the huntress can hide. If the web is
amongst trees it will probably be a leaf she has pulled together with her
thread and made into a dark little tunnel out of which she darts when
something is caught.
Now before we leave the spiders’ webs you may wonder why you never see
them so clearly as they show in the photographs, and I will tell you the
reason. You see if the spiders’ nets which are set to catch sharp-eyed
insects were always to show as clearly as they do in the pictures, I am
afraid they would really starve, for no fly would be silly enough to go
into such a bright trap. But sometimes in the autumn, very early in the
morning, the dew hangs in tiny beads on the webs, and makes them show
up clearly, and then it is that the photographs are taken. If you get up
early some still September morning, just about the same time as the sun,
and go for a walk in a wood, or even along a country road, you may see
the webs with what look like strings of the tiniest pearls on them, and
you will find that until the sun has dried up all the little wet pearls,
which are of course dewdrops, the poor spider has not a ghost of a chance
of catching anything.
But to return to the spider herself. The one you know best is probably
the house-spider. It has eight legs and a body rather the shape of a fat
egg, with a little round bead of a head. It runs up the walls, sometimes
hanging by a thread from the ceiling, and seems very fond of the corners
of the room. How glad these house-spiders must be when they get to a
dirty untidy house, where they will be safe from the broom. Most of us
hate to see cobwebs in our houses, and get rid of them as quickly as we
can.
CHAPTER V
THE LITTLE HOUSE-SPIDER
I will tell you about a little house-spider who had a very exciting
adventure. She had made a beautiful web in the corner of a bedroom, high
up near the ceiling. One day her sensitive hairs told her there was some
sort of disturbance in the room, and looking down from her web she saw
all the furniture being moved out. The curtains and rugs had gone and
the bed was pushed up into a corner. Then, to her dismay, a huge hairy
monster came rushing up the wall. Of course, it was only a broom, but the
poor little spider was so terrified she thought it was alive. It came
nearer and nearer, and all at once there was a terrific rush and swish
right up the wall where she lived, and web and spider disappeared. It
was very alarming, but you will be glad to hear that the little spider
was not killed but only stunned; and as soon as she came to her senses,
she found herself right in the middle of the broom. She hung on and kept
quite still, and soon the servants went into the kitchen to have some
lunch and the broom was stood up against the wall.
Now was the little spider’s chance to escape, and out she popped. The
coast seemed clear, so she scuttled up the wall and rested on the top of
the door. Spiders haven’t good sight, so she couldn’t see much of the
kitchen, but what she did see looked nice, and she thought it a much more
interesting place than a bedroom, besides there were some flies about, so
she determined to spin another web. No sooner had she begun when there
was a crash like an earthquake. “Will horrors never cease?” thought the
spider. It was really only the slamming of the door, but it so startled
her that she fell and dropped on to the shoulder of some one who had just
come in.
[Illustration: A Snare.]
“Oh, Miss Molly!” cried cook, “you’ve got a spider on you, let me kill
it.”
“No, no,” said Molly, “that would be unlucky, besides it’s only a tiny
one,” and she took hold of the thread from which the spider hung and put
it out of doors. Wasn’t that a lucky escape? She ran up the wall and
got on to a window sill. Here she crouched down into a corner making
herself as small as she could for fear of being seen, and then she fell
asleep. You see she had gone through a great deal that morning, and the
excitement had thoroughly tired her out.
When evening came she woke up and felt very hungry, so she quickly spun
a web, and would you believe it, before it was even finished she felt a
quiver, and there was a silly little gnat caught right in the middle. He
was very tiny, but the spider wasn’t big, and he made a very good meal
for her. She didn’t stop even to wrap him up, for she couldn’t wait, but
gobbled him up on the spot.
CHAPTER VI
BABY SPIDERS
Before a spider lays her eggs, she spins some web on the ground. She
goes over it again and again, spinning all the time, till it looks like
a piece of gauze. Into this she lays her eggs—often over a hundred—and
covers them with more web and then wraps them up into a round ball. I
don’t suppose you would think it, but a spider is a very devoted mother,
and this white ball is so precious to her that she carries it everywhere
she goes and never lets it out of her sight. She will hold it for hours
in the sun to help to hatch the eggs, and she would fight anything that
tried to hurt it or take it away from her.
It is the same when the eggs are hatched out, for her babies are always
with her. Their home is on her back, and as there is such a swarm of
them, they cover her right up and you often can’t see the spider for the
young. Often some of them drop off, but they are active little things and
they soon climb on again. As long as they live with their mother they
have nothing to eat. This fasting, however, doesn’t seem to hurt them for
they are very lively; the only thing is they don’t grow.
It doesn’t seem to matter very much even to grown-up spiders to go
without their dinners for several days. And when they do at last get
some food they gorge. They eat and eat and eat, and instead of making
themselves ill like you would do, they seem to feel very comfortable and
are able to go hungry again for some time. Perhaps it is because, as
babies, they got used to doing without food.
[Illustration: Spiders love fine weather.]
Spiders love fine weather, and they seem to know when to expect the sun
to shine. When it is a bright day Mother Spider brings out her big little
family. It is no good offering them any food, for they can’t eat it yet,
so she finds a sheltered hot place and gives them a thorough sun bath,
which they like better than anything else.
And now one more little story before we say “Good-by” to spiders. When
Emma was a tiny baby she had thirty-nine brothers and sisters. And as she
was just a tiny bit smaller than the others, she was very badly treated.
The stronger ones would be very rough and cruel to her. They used to
walk over her and push her near the edge where she would be likely to
fall off. Two or three times they had crowded her so that she really had
slipped off and lay sprawling on the ground. However, she was very nimble
and agile, and she had always been able to pick herself up quickly and
clamber up one of her mother’s legs on to her back again.
One day the little spiders were more spiteful than usual. “You are a
disgrace to us,” they told Emma, “you might be a silly ant.”
“I’m no more an ant than you,” said Emma, “I can’t help being small.”
“Ant, ant, ant!” they cried, “ants belong on the ground and that’s your
proper place,” and pushed her off on to the ground.
The unlucky part was that Emma’s mother didn’t know what had happened,
and before Emma could struggle to her feet, she had hurried away having
noticed a bird hovering near. There was Emma all alone, a poor lost
little spider without a mother or a home.
She was feeling very sad and wondering what would become of her, when
along came another Mother Spider with a lot of babies on her back. Two of
these fell off quite near to Emma, and when they ran back to their mother
she ran with them. Up an unknown leg she climbed and on to a strange
back, and yet she felt quite as happy and at home as if it had been her
own mother and the companions she joined had been her real brothers and
sisters. How different spiders are from us! Emma’s mother never knew she
had lost a baby, and the new mother didn’t bother herself at all that
she had adopted one, and as for the strange brothers and sisters, they
treated her rather better than her own, for they happened to be just a
little smaller than Emma so were not strong enough to push her off. As
far as Emma was concerned it was decidedly a change for the better, and
she was really a very lucky little spider.
WHAT THE CHICKENS DID
CHAPTER I
JOAN AND THE CANARIES
I wonder if you have ever watched young chickens. You can’t help liking
such babyish, fluffy little things; they are so sweet and so different
from the grown-up hens. I know a little girl who cried out, “Look at all
those canaries!” Of course, they are not really a bit like canaries, and
it was only because of their yellow coats that she made the mistake.
Chickens are so lively and cheery, too; even when they are only a day old
they are able to feed themselves, and will run about picking up grain.
For such babies they are quite bold and will wander off a long way from
the coop, but when anything alarming comes along they will all rush back
to Mother Hen, making funny little peeping noises showing they are rather
frightened; and she answers, “Tuk, tuk,” as much as to say, “You are
little sillies, but I’m very fond of you,” and takes them under her wing.
Joan was the little girl who had called them canaries, and you may guess
how she got teased about it. She had come to stay with an aunt who had a
farm, and as Joan had always lived in a town, she couldn’t be expected
to know very much about animals or birds. She liked the cows and the
goats and the horses but she loved the chickens best of all. When she was
missing, her aunt always knew where to find her, and the chickens seemed
to know her too and were tamer with her than with any one else.
[Illustration: When anything alarming comes along they will all rush back
to Mother Hen.]
[Illustration: A little tapping sound.]
Several of the hens were sitting on their eggs, and Joan was told she
mustn’t go near them or disturb them at all. While a hen is sitting she
doesn’t want to be bothered to think of anything else except how she can
best keep her eggs warm and safe. She has to be careful and patient till
the chicks are ready to come out. This is an exciting time, and Joan used
often to think about it. She did wish so she might see a chicken burst
through its shell. She imagined there would be a little tapping sound,
and that the other chickens would be very interested and listen, and
then the shell would suddenly open and out would spring a fluffy yellow
chicken. She had been to a pantomime once called “Aladdin,” and there had
been a huge egg, supposed to be a Roc’s egg. In the last scene this egg
was in the middle of the stage. A dancer struck it with a wand, when it
opened, and out sprang a full grown fairy, dressed in orange and gold,
with a skirt of fluffy yellow feathers. Somehow Joan had always imagined
a chicken would begin its life in this dramatic way.
CHAPTER II
THE WORM
As yet only one small family of chickens had come out of their eggs but
they were quite enough for Joan to play with. She soon made friends
with them and gave them all names. There were: Honeypot, Darkie, Piggy,
Fluffy, Cheeky, Dolly and Long-legs. Darkie was rather different from the
others; he was a lively little chick with a dark coat and white shirt
front. Cheeky was the boldest and most impudent. He would cock his little
head on one side and stare at Joan, and he was always the last to run to
Mother Hen if anything was the matter.
[Illustration: Dolly found a worm.]
[Illustration: Cheeky dashing off with the prize.]
Joan never forgot the morning Dolly found a worm. Instead of keeping
quiet, the silly chick made such a fuss over it that the others soon
found it out. Cheeky was on the spot at once, and before slow Dolly could
say a “peep” he had snatched the worm out of her beak and was off. I
wonder if you have ever seen a chicken running with a worm; it really
is great fun. Joan shouted with delight to see that rascal of a Cheeky
dashing off with the prize while poor foolish Dolly only looked on.
However, one chick is never allowed to have a worm to himself for long,
and soon Fluffy and Darkie were after Cheeky trying hard to get the worm
for themselves. Round and round they ran, into the long grass round the
food pails, into the corners of the yard and out again, till at last
poor Cheeky despaired of ever being able to eat the worm, there never
was a second’s time. At last, he tried to take a bite, and at once it
was snatched away from him by Darkie, and then the race began again and
they all rushed about after each other till Fluffy got it. He was just
going off with it when Mr. Cock came along, a very proud and dignified
gentleman. “Ah, Ha!” he cried, “What have we here?”
“Please, it’s mine,” said Cheeky, “he snatched it away from me.”
The cock looked very surprised, for I don’t think any other chick would
have been bold enough to speak to him at all. Every one was rather afraid
of him, for he had a very sharp beak and would take no back answers.
“It isn’t yours at all!” cried Darkie and Fluffy. “You stole it, you
didn’t even find it yourself.”
“Please, don’t make such a noise,” said the cock, “I never knew such
rowdy, ill-behaved chickens, you have no dignity at all. Now, so that
there shall be no quarrel, I am going to remove the cause,” and he
stooped down and gobbled up the worm.
[Illustration: Made them take some grain out of her hand.]
This is really what happened; it is quite true for Joan saw it all. I
am not quite so sure that the cock actually used these words because,
you see, Joan couldn’t understand his language, but she thought he said
something very like it.
CHAPTER III
JOAN SAVES A CHICKEN’S LIFE
I wonder if you have ever seen a hen feed her chickens. It is a pretty
sight. She scratches on the ground, and when she finds something to eat,
she calls her children. “Tuk, tuk, tuk,” she cries, and all the little
chicks come scurrying up, for they understand quite well what she means,
and are always ready for something more to eat. They peep out all sorts
of pleased things in chicken language, and each tries to push the others
away to get most for himself.
Joan loved to see them, and she used to imitate the old hen and call the
chickens and give them some chopped egg. They liked this and got so tame
that they would eat out of her hand. Joan’s aunt was quite surprised,
and one day she made them take some grain out of _her_ hand. Cheeky
jumped on to her thumb, and Piggy and Fluffy lost no time in getting to
their dinner. The other three were not quite so trustful. Honeypot looked
up in her face as much as to say, “I know Joan, she’s a friend, but I’m
not quite so sure about you.” The others, too, were a little undecided
and hesitated for a time, so Joan felt the chickens were really sensible
enough to know her, after all.
The chickens were so pretty and attractive that Joan wanted them to
be like real people, and she thought of all sorts of ideas which she
pretended they were thinking. But even she had to own they were not
very original. If one did a thing, they would all do it. Their favorite
game was certainly “Follow-my-leader.” One would run into a corner and
scratch, and at once the others would run and scratch, too. Then they
would all run to the gate, and if anything came along there would be a
quick scamper back to mother and not one would be left behind.
Joan watched them once playing “Follow-my-leader” round a barn door.
It was standing wide open and Fluffy ran behind it and poked his head
through the crack, just below the hinge. It was not a big space, but
Fluffy could just squeeze his neck through. Of course, the others must
follow his lead and try and do the same; and all would have been well if
only Piggy’s head had been the same size as the others. I expect it was
because he had eaten rather more than the rest that his head was just a
tiny bit bigger. When it came to his turn, he pushed hard to get his head
through, as all the others had done, but when he tried to pull it back,
it stuck. It was terrible; there he was held as if he were in a trap.
Oh, what a noise he made! Joan heard his shrill frightened peeping and
thought at least he must be nearly killed. She came running up and was
very alarmed when she saw what was the matter. But she was a sensible
child, and instead of running away to call some one, she squeezed in
behind the door, being very careful not to push it to, as that would
have choked the poor little chick. Then she firmly took hold of Piggy,
and putting two fingers through the crack she gently pushed the fluffy
little head back through it and pulled the chicken out of danger. Just as
she had put him on the ground and he had given another loud peep to show
there was no harm done, the old hen came running up clucking in such an
excited manner as much as to say, “it doesn’t do to leave these babies
one minute, they are bound to get into mischief.” She had heard her chick
crying and had hurried up to see what she could do. I wonder what she
would have done to help. Something I feel sure, for it is wonderful how
clever mother animals and birds can be when it is a case of taking care
of their young.
Joan told her she had better lead her little family further away from
such a danger trap, and to help her Joan called the chickens to the other
end of the yard, and when they came running up, there on the ground lay a
nice long worm she had found for them, and she took care that each had a
bit.
[Illustration: It is very funny to see chickens drink.]
CHAPTER IV
THIRSTY CHICKENS
It is very funny to see chickens drink. If you have ever watched them
you must have noticed how they dive their beaks into the water and then
quickly hold up their heads. They do this to let the water run down their
throats for, you see, their mouths cannot shut up tightly and keep the
water in like yours.
One morning all the chicks felt very thirsty. I expect eating worms makes
you thirsty, and I am sure running about with a worm and never getting
the chance to eat it must make you thirstier still. So first one and
then all the rest ran to their saucer of water. Honeypot ran her beak
along the water before holding up her head to swallow it. Of course,
the others must imitate her and do the same. When Cheeky came up, of
course, he tried to do it too, but there was very little room, the other
chicks had got the best places and they crowded him. Honeypot pushed hard
against him on one side and Fluffy bumped into him on the other, so that
he kept losing the water he had collected in his beak to drink.
“This is a silly game,” he said. “Can’t you let me get a drink?”
The others pretended they hadn’t heard, and kept on bobbing their little
heads up and down and took no notice at all. Dolly, whose worm he had
taken, was rather pleased to annoy him and gave Fluffy a sly push so that
he bumped into Cheeky and nearly upset him.
“Well, you are rude!” cried Cheeky. “I never saw such ill-mannered
chicks.”
“Who are you to talk about manners?” said Fluffy, while the others
stopped drinking to listen. “Who took Dolly’s worm?”
“And what business is that of yours?” cried Cheeky, getting in a temper
and flapping his stumpy little wings.
“Take care or you’ll get a peck!” Fluffy shouted with a threatening
poke of his head. It was quite a desperate quarrel, but if you had been
listening all you would have heard was “Peep, peep, peep,” a great many
times over.
CHAPTER V
THE FIGHT
You know, I expect, that cocks are given to fighting; that is why you
seldom see two cocks in the same run. The hens are different and live
together very happily; they are too busy with their eggs and looking
after their baby chickens to be quarrelsome. But Fluffy and Cheeky were
going to grow up cocks which probably made them more inclined to quarrel.
Joan thought, perhaps, they still bore each other a grudge over the
worm which neither of them had been able to enjoy. So what began as a
quarrel ended in a regular fight. Weren’t they naughty chickens? Cheeky
and Fluffy grew so fierce and angry with each other that they began to
fight like grown-up cocks. They tried to fly up and pounce down on each
other, but their little wings were too short and weak and they could only
give little hops. They pecked and jumped and peeped loudly while the
other chickens stood round looking on, for they had never seen such a
fight before. Cheeky gave one fly up and came down on Fluffy, giving him
a really hard peck full on his little breast, when he fell over and lay
quite still just as if he were dead.
[Illustration: They began to fight.]
I should like to be able to tell you that, when Cheeky saw what he had
done he was desperately sorry because he had not meant to hurt Fluffy
like that. If he had been a child he would have been terribly sad and
ashamed of himself, I am sure, but chickens are different. In spite of
Joan’s ideas of them they haven’t really much feeling and very little
intelligence, and so Cheeky just strutted off and didn’t seem to care a
bit. He even began scratching the ground as if the fight had given him
an appetite and he was looking for another worm. The others, too, were
quite happy and busy, and took no more notice of poor Fluffy lying in a
little heap on the ground.
[Illustration: He fell over and lay quite still as if he were dead.]
CHAPTER VI
FLUFFY’S RECOVERY
I don’t think this fight would have happened if the mother hen had been
about, but through some mistake she had been shut up for an hour with
some other hens who were not mothers. It was Joan again who came to see
what was the matter. She was just too late to save poor Fluffy, and was
heart-broken when she saw him lying on the ground so limp and still just
as if he were dead. “Oh, you wicked chickens!” she cried, “what have you
done to poor Fluffy?” Cheeky cocked his little head on one side as if
he knew nothing at all about it, and the other chickens wandered off as
if their brother who had got the worst of the fight was no business of
theirs.
“What horrid, cold-blooded little things,” thought Joan, “how could they
be so unkind?” But it is no good giving chickens credit for tender hearts
and clever brains, for if you do you will be disappointed. And it will
not be the chickens’ fault, for they can’t help it. Joan found this out
after a time and she loved them for what they were and didn’t expect too
much.
Very gently Joan picked Fluffy up and was glad to feel he was still warm.
She carried him carefully to the kitchen where cook gave her a cosy
little basket with a piece of flannel. She laid him on this and put him
near the kitchen fire. Her aunt looked grave when she saw his limp little
body, for she thought he was dead, but she let Joan do as she liked.
Poor Fluffy lay still so long that Joan grew tired of watching him and
went off to see the cows milked. When she came in to tea she rushed first
of all into the kitchen to see if he had moved. He certainly looked
better, less limp and even a little fatter, and actually his eyes were
open. Joan was delighted, and while she was looking at him he opened his
beak and gave a kind of gape. “Oh, auntie!” Joan called out, “Fluffy’s
alive, and I believe he wants something to eat.” Wasn’t it splendid? The
warmth of the kitchen fire had revived him. After Joan had fed him with a
little warm food he was able to get up and walk about. She liked having
him to herself like that, but when bedtime came and the other chicks went
under their mother’s wing she took him back and he ran in and settled
down. I expect he made up his mind it would be a long time before he
would have another fight.
CHAPTER VII
HATCHING OUT
Hatching out is an exciting time. The hen has to sit on the eggs and keep
them warm and quiet for three whole weeks. It needs a lot of patience,
doesn’t it? Joan knew there were some eggs due to hatch out very soon and
she did wish she might see them. She knew it was really impossible though
because the hen must be left alone then and not disturbed at all.
Joan was very fond of animals and always wanted to do the kindest thing
for them; she was a nice child altogether, and tried to help her aunt
with the farm. She was having such a good time and thoroughly enjoying
her holidays. Her cousin Lulu had spent her holidays there too and been
rather naughty, so Joan’s aunt told her. It seems Lulu had been asked not
to go near, or in any way disturb, the hens that were sitting on their
eggs, and had promised faithfully not to do so. You may guess the kind of
child Lulu was when I tell you she broke her promise.
There was a speckled hen who was a very good mother and had brought up
ever so many families, and when Lulu was there her eggs were due to hatch
out very soon. They were not the eggs she had laid herself but some very
special ones. When they were hatching out that naughty Lulu went to look.
She simply didn’t bother about her promise and even pulled one of the
eggs out from under the hen to see if it was already broken. The speckled
hen was furious and terribly flurried; she had never been interfered
with before and took it very much amiss. She didn’t mean to hurt her
babies, of course, but she got so worried and nervous that she was not
careful enough where she put her feet down and killed five of them. In
her excitement she had trampled on them and the poor little things had
scarcely lived at all. Of course, Lulu was very sorry, but that didn’t
mend her promise nor bring the chickens back to life.
Joan was delighted when her aunt told her she might have a chance of
seeing some hatching out. There were some eggs in the incubator which
were due out very soon. An incubator is a sort of comfortable box which
keeps the eggs as safe and warm as a mother hen, so that they come out in
three weeks just as if a hen were looking after them. Only an incubator,
not being alive, wouldn’t get flurried or excited at any one looking on.
Joan was told there were eggs in it which were due to turn into chickens
on Thursday or Friday.
[Illustration: One had still a bit of shell sticking to his back.]
On Wednesday Joan kept running to look, on Thursday she still haunted
the place, but on Friday she began to get a little tired of nothing
happening. In the afternoon she was having a game with Cheeky, Fluffy and
Co. when she was called in to see a pretty sight. Some chickens had just
come out, and one had still a bit of shell sticking to his back. He was
looking at the rest of it in such a comical way as if he were asking how
he had ever been cramped up in such a little space. They were darling
little chicks, and Joan was soon busy giving them names. She always loved
them and often played with them, but somehow they never seemed quite as
clever nor as human as her first friends.
[Illustration: Salome.]
THE PERSIAN KITTENS AND THEIR FRIENDS
CHAPTER I
TOMPKINS AND MINETTE
I want to tell you about two little Persian kittens called Tompkins and
Minette. They were the prettiest you have ever seen with their long
fluffy fur, their small ears and little impudent stumpy noses. They
looked such innocent darlings, you felt you must kiss them, but like most
kittens, they dearly loved a little fun, and as for mischief—well, you
shall hear all about them.
Their mother was a very handsome Persian cat Salome, with a proud walk
and very dignified ways. She had four kittens, but two had been given
away and, to tell the truth, Tompkins and Minette were not altogether
sorry. Four kittens and a big fluffy mother take up a lot of room in a
basket, and theirs seemed getting to be a tighter fit every day.
“We shan’t be quite so crowded now,” remarked Minette with a yawn after
the others had gone away.
“And we shall have all the more to eat,” said Tompkins.
“Our mother will love us more, too,” purred Minette.
“The only bother is: she’ll have more time to wash our faces,” said
Tompkins. So when Mary, their tender-hearted little mistress pitied them
saying, “Poor darlings! how they will miss the others!” Tompkins and
Minette were saying in cat language, “Not a bit of it.”
Besides, two kittens are quite enough for a game, especially such rascals
as Tompkins and Minette.
[Illustration: The two kittens arched their backs.]
Tompkins loved anything in the shape of a ball, and as there was a good
deal of knitting going on in the house there were several balls in sight.
The grown-ups, however, were careful with theirs; they knew kittens, but
Mary, who was only eight and had just begun to knit, seemed the most
hopeful, and it was her ball the kittens watched. Her wool was thick, and
the scarf she was making never seemed to get beyond the third row, so
there was always a nice fat ball of it.
“It does look nice and soft,” said Minette looking at it.
“And wouldn’t it roll finely,” said Tompkins.
One day Mary tried to knit, but her hands got so sticky that the stitches
kept dropping off the needles. She got very hot and cross. “Bother,
bother, bother!” she cried at last and flung the knitting down and rushed
off into the garden.
The ball of wool was still on the table, but as the knitting was on the
floor you may guess it didn’t take those kittens long to pull it down. It
bounced off the table and came rolling towards them. It really looked
almost like some live animal coming at them, and the two kittens arched
their backs and looked quite fierce. When it stopped Tompkins said to
Minette, “What a silly to be frightened of a ball of wool,” and Minette
answered, “_You_ were frightened, _I_ was only pretending.” But this
argument didn’t last long for there was the lovely fluffy ball on the
ground waiting to be played with. Tompkins snatched it first and patted
it round a chair. Then Minette tried to bite it, and when it rolled away
they were like boys after a football, and it was sent all over the room
and twisted round each leg of the table.
You see, all cats love pretending even when they are quite babies, so
Tompkins and Minette pretended to be grown-up cats chasing a mouse until
that bold Tompkins suggested, “It’s really too big for a mouse, let’s
call it a rat.” And they grew quite fierce as they hunted it, giving
savage miaous and growls just like big cats. But after a little the rat
seemed to shrink into a mouse and the mouse into nothing at all for the
wool had all come unwound.
It never does to give way to temper, does it? and when Mary returned she
was to find it out. She came back and brought her mother to help her with
the knitting, and pick up all her stitches for her. They found two tired
little kittens with sweet faces and big innocent eyes, and the wool in a
perfectly hopeless tangle all over the room.
“What did Mary’s mother say?” you ask. I am afraid she laughed. I know
she didn’t blame the kittens, and Mary had to get her wool out of a
tangle and wind it up herself. Not for very long though, because when her
mother thought she had suffered enough for her temper and carelessness
she helped her and they soon got it finished. Mary gave the kittens a
good scolding, calling them “nasty, mean mischievous little things.”