Bertie had the desire of his heart,--a corn-popper! He had wanted it for
a long time,--three weeks, at least. Mamma brought it when she came home
from the city, and gave it to him for his very own. A bushel of corn,
ready popped, would not have been half so good. There was all the
delight of popping in store for the long winter evenings.
Bertie could hardly wait to eat his supper before he tried his
corn-popper. It proved to be a very good one. He popped corn that
evening, and the next, and the next. He fed all the family, gave some
to all his playmates, and carried a bag of pop-corn to school for his
teacher.
Trip, the shaggy, little, yellow dog, came in for a share, and Mintie
too. Who or what was Mintie?
Mintie was a bantam biddy, very small, white as snow, and very pretty.
She had been left an orphan chick, and for a while kept in the house,
near the kitchen fire. She had been Bertie’s especial charge, and he fed
and tended her faithfully.
As she grew older she would rove about with the larger hens, but was
very tame, and always liked the house. She would come in very often.
When Bertie happened to pop corn in the daytime she was pretty apt to be
around, and pick up the kernels he threw to her.
One night he left his corn-popper on the kitchen table. It was open, and
two or three small kernels were still in it.
Early next morning, long before Bertie was dressed, Mintie came into the
kitchen. She flew up on the table, and helped herself to the corn in the
popper. The girl was busy getting breakfast, and did not mind much about
her. Presently she went down cellar, and Mintie had the room to herself.
When Bertie came down to breakfast there was a white egg in the
corn-popper! It was so small that it looked almost like a bird’s; but it
was Mintie’s first egg.
Bertie clapped his hands; he was very much pleased.
“Mamma! mamma!” he shouted. “See this pretty egg! Mintie put it into my
popper, and must have meant to give it to me.”
And mamma said, “Very likely she did.”