But there were no geese! There were Shanghais and Cochin-Chinas, and
Guinea hens, and Barbary hens, and speckled hens, and Poland roosters,
and bantams, and ducks, and turkeys, but not one goose! “No geese but
ourselves,” said Mrs. Peterkin, wittily, as they returned to the house.
The sight of this procession roused up the village. “A torchlight
procession!” cried all the boys of the town; and they gathered round the
house, shouting for the flag; and Mr. Peterkin had to invite them in,
and give them cider and gingerbread, before he could explain to them
that it was only his family visiting his hens.
After the crowd had dispersed, Solomon John sat down to think of his
writing again. Agamemnon agreed to go over to the bookstore to get a
quill. They all went over with him. The bookseller was just shutting up
his shop. However, he agreed to go in and get a quill, which he did, and
they hurried home.
So Solomon John sat down again, but there was no paper. And now the
bookstore was shut up. Mr. Peterkin suggested that the mail was about
in, and perhaps he should have a letter, and then they could use the
envelope to write upon. So they all went to the post-office, and the
little boys had their india-rubber boots on, and they all shouted when
they found Mr. Peterkin had a letter. The postmaster inquired what
they were shouting about; and when they told him, he said he would give
Solomon John a whole sheet of paper for his book. And they all went back
rejoicing.
So Solomon John sat down, and the family all sat round the table looking
at him. He had his pen, his ink, and his paper. He dipped his pen into
the ink and held it over the paper, and thought a minute, and then said,
“But I haven’t got anything to say.”