On the morning after the family left, a pale and quiet Man, wearing
glasses, came out in a platform wagon to look over the farm. He had
been there but a short time when two great loads of furniture appeared
down the road. Then the Man took off his coat and helped the drivers
carry it all into the little farmhouse. The fowls, who happened to be
near enough, noticed that the Man never lifted anything which seemed
to be heavy. They noticed, too, that his hands were rather small and
very white. Still he acted as though he expected to live on the place.
With the others helping him, he put down two carpets and set up two
stoves.
The other Men drove away, leaving the single Horse and the platform
wagon. The Man washed his hands, put on his coat, and brought a
pasteboard box out onto the side porch. He opened it carefully, took
out a glass, and drew up a bucketful of water at the well. He filled
his glass and carried it back to the porch. Then he began to eat his
dinner.
All the farm people had been properly cared for that morning by the
Farmer from across the road, and felt sure that he would not see them
wanting food, so it was not just a wish for something to eat which
made every creature there come quietly to a place near the side porch.
They were certain that they belonged to this Man, and they wanted to
find out what he was like.
"I hope he isn't expecting to milk me," said Brown Bess. "I don't
believe he could draw a drop from my udders, and he would probably set
the stool down on the wrong side anyhow."
Bobs and Snip were no longer on the farm, having gone to town, to work
there with their old master, so the Hog was the next to speak. "I
hope he won't eat that kind of dinner every day," said she. "It looks
to me as though there would be no scraps left to go into my pail."
"Ugh! Ugh! Stingy!" grunted the little Pigs. "He wants it all for
himself!" They did not stop to think that every time food was emptied
into their trough, each of them acted as though he wanted every drop
and crumb of it for himself.
The Gobbler strutted up and down near the porch, with his feathers on
end and his wings dragging. "There is just one thing I like about the
Man," said he. "He does _not_ wear a red tie."
"I can't tell exactly what is the matter," said the Gander, "but he is
certainly very different from any Man I ever saw before. I think he
must belong to a different breed. The things he has on his feet are
much blacker and shinier than the Men around here wear, and that stiff
and shiny white thing around his neck is much higher. I hope he is not
stupid. I cannot bear stupid people."
"Neither can we," murmured the Geese. "We really cannot bear them."
"I fear he does not know very much," said the Drake, sadly, "although
I must say that I like his face. He looks good and kind, not at all as
though he would ever throw stones at people for the fun of seeing them
waddle faster. What I do not like is the way in which he acted about
getting his water. Any Duck knows that you can tell most about people
by the way they take water. The old gourd which the Farmer and his
family used so long, hung right on the chain-pump, and yet this Man
got a glass and filled it. He did not even drink from it as soon as it
was full, but filled and emptied it three times before drinking. That
is not what I call good sense."
"Did you notice how he put on his coat before he began to eat?" asked
the White Cock. "I never saw our Farmer do that except in very cold
weather, and I have been close to the kitchen door a great many times
when they sat down to the table."
"It must be that he was not very hungry," said one of the Hens, "or he
would never have taken so much time to begin eating. Besides, you can
see that he was not, by the size of his mouthfuls. He did not take a
single bite as big as he could, and you will never make me believe
that a person is hungry when he eats in that way." This was the Hen
who usually got the largest piece from the food-pan and swallowed it
whole to make sure of it, before any of the other fowls could overtake
her and get it away.
Then the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen spoke. "I like him," she said. "I am
sure that he belongs to a different breed, but I think it is a good
one. I remember hearing somebody say, when I was a Chicken, that it
was well for fowls to have a change of ground once in a while, and
that it would make them stronger. I believe that is why he is here.
You can tell by watching him work that he is not strong, and he may be
here for a change of ground. I shall certainly befriend him, whatever
the rest of you do. We people of fine families should stand by each
other." Then she strolled over toward the Man, lifting her feet in her
most aristocratic way and perking her head prettily.
The Man smiled. He broke a piece from the slice of bread which he was
eating, and sprinkled it lightly with salt from a tiny bottle. This
piece he divided into two portions and held one out at arm's length
toward the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen. She had never before been invited
to eat from anybody's hand, and she was really afraid to do it. Her
skin felt creepy, as though her feathers were about to stand on end.
Still, she had just said that she meant to befriend the new Man, and
that he and she were of finer breeds than most people. Here was her
chance to prove her words, and she was not the sort of Hen to show the
white feather.
She stood erect in all her Plymouth Rock dignity, and ate the bread in
five pecks. Then she stooped and wiped her bill daintily on the grass
at the Man's feet before strolling away again.
You can imagine what excitement this made among the poultry. The
Gobbler, the Gander, and the Drake did not wish to appear too much
interested, and some of the Cocks acted in the same way, but the
mothers and sisters of the families talked of nothing else for a long
time. It is true that the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen had not been very
popular on the farm, most of the Hens insisting that she put on airs,
but now they could not help admiring her courage and grace. Two or
three of them even thought she might be right in saying that it was a
good thing to come from a fine family. The Cocks had never thought her
airy. They always told the other Hens that it was just their notion,
and that she was really a very clever and friendly Hen.
As for the Man, he seemed much pleased by what had happened. He put
his hat on the back of his head and smiled. "That is a good
beginning," he said to himself. "To eat bread and salt together means
that we will always be friends, and I would rather break bread with
respectable poultry than with some Men that I know."
Late in the afternoon, the Man harnessed his Horse, whom he called
Brownie, to the same platform wagon in which he had come, gave one
parting look all around the house and yard, turned the key in the side
door, and drove off toward town. "What next?" asked all the poultry.
If you had ever been a Hen or a Duck or a Turkey or a Goose (for
although you may have acted like a perfect Goose, you probably never
have been one), you would know just how worried the poultry on this
particular farm were, after the new Man had driven away in the
platform wagon. It seemed quite certain that he had gone to town to
bring out his family, and it mattered a great deal to them what his
family were like. A single Boy of the wrong kind could make all the
fowls on the place unhappy, and the others agreed with the Gobbler
when he said, "There is one thing worse than a Girl in a red dress,
and that is a Boy who throws stones."
It was a very sad company which wandered around the farmyard, picking
here and there, and really eating but little. The White Cock would
keep talking about the dreadful things which might happen, and
reminded his friends that there might be two Boys, or three, or four,
perhaps even five in the family! The other fowls soon tried to get
away from him, and then they were often so unfortunate as to meet the
Brown Hen, who was fussing and worrying for fear the Man would shut
her up in a small yard.
At last the Shanghai Cock lost his temper, as he was very apt to do,
and said that there were some fowls he would like to have shut up.
This displeased both the White Cock and the Brown Hen, because the
Shanghai Cock had looked at both of them when he spoke, using one eye
for each, and they did not know what to say. They thought from the
mean little cackling laugh which the others gave, that he might have
wished them to shut up their bills. Then they did the very best thing
that they could have done, going off together to the pasture, where
each could talk gloomily to the other without annoying anybody else.
When Brownie came jogging back to the farm, the platform wagon looked
very gay. On the back seat sat a pleasant looking Woman with a fat
Baby on her lap. Beside her sat a Little Girl with brown hair. On the
seat beside the Man sat another Little Girl, dressed exactly like the
first one and just as large as she, but with golden hair. They were
all laughing and talking and pointing at different things as they
drove into the yard.
"It is not much like our other home," said the Man, as he set the Baby
on his feet beside the steps, and turned to help the Woman out.
"That does not matter if we can be comfortable and well here," she
answered with a smile. "It will be a lovely place for the children,
and I believe it will make you strong again."
"Cock-a-doodle-doo!" said the young Cock from the top rail of the
fence. He did it only to show off, but the children, who had never
lived on a farm, and so could not understand poultry-talk very well,
felt sure that he said, "How-do-you-all-do?" and thought him
exceedingly polite. The Baby started after him at once, and fell flat
before he had taken six steps.
[Illustration: "COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!" SAID THE YOUNG COCK. _Page 26_]
The Man, the Woman, and the two Little Girls all started to pick up
the Baby, who was so wound up in his long cloak that he could not
rise. Brownie looked around in a friendly way and stood perfectly
still, instead of edging off toward the barn as some Horses would have
done, while the Baby just rolled over on his back and laughed.
"Gobble-gobble-gobble!" said the Gobbler. "I think this family will
suit us very well."
The Barred Plymouth Rock Hen was too polite a fowl ever to say "I told
you so," but she stood very straight and chuckled softly to herself,
so the rest could know that she was pleased with what she saw, and
felt more certain than ever that the Man and his family were no common
people.
All the family went to the barn with the Man while he unharnessed
Brownie and gave him his supper. The children had a happy time on the
hay, and, before they went into the house together, the Man put some
corn in a pan and let them scatter it by the door for the poultry.
"They have been running loose in the fields," he said, "and they may
not need it all, but we will give it to them anyway, and to-morrow I
will study my book of directions and see how they should be fed at
this season."
The children scattered the corn, the Woman kneeling down with her arm
around the Baby, to keep him from falling over each time that he threw
a few kernels. The Barred Plymouth Rock Hen was the first to come
forward to pick it up, and the Man told his wife how he and she had
eaten bread and salt at noon.
Then the Woman said: "Come, we must go into the house! I should have
been there working long ago, but I wanted to see the children make
friends with the poultry."
As the door of the house closed behind its new inmates, the Barred
Plymouth Rock Hen could not help looking at the Shanghai Cock. "Yes,"
he said, for he knew what she meant, "I like your friends very much.
They seem to have some sense." Then the Barred Plymouth Rock Hen was
satisfied, for she was fond of the Shanghai Cock, and praise from him
was praise indeed.