One morning the Sudberry Family sat on the green hill-side, in front of
the White House, engaged in their usual morning amusement--feeding the
cocks and hens.
It is astonishing what an amount of interest may be got up in this way!
If one goes at it with a sort of philanthropico-philosophical spirit, a
full hour of genuine satisfaction may be thus obtained--not to speak of
the joy imparted to the poultry, and the profound glimpses obtained into
fowl character.
There were about twenty hens, more or less, and two cocks. With
wonderful sagacity did these creatures come to perceive that when the
Sudberrys brought out chairs and stools after breakfast, and sat down
thereon, they, the fowls, were in for a feed! And it was surprising the
punctuality with which they assembled each fine morning for this
purpose.
Most of the family simply enjoyed the thing; but Mr Sudberry, in
addition to enjoying it, studied it. He soon came to perceive that the
cocks were cowardly wretches, and this gave him occasion to point out to
his wife the confiding character and general superiority of female
nature, even in hens. The two large cocks could not be prevailed on to
feed out of the hand by any means. Under the strong influence of
temptation they would strut with bold aspect, but timid, hesitating
step, towards the proffered crumb, but the slightest motion would scare
them away; and when they did venture to peck, they did so with violent
haste, and instantly fled in abject terror.
It was this tendency in these ignoble birds that exasperated poor Jacky,
whose chief delight was to tempt the unfortunate hens to place unlimited
confidence in him, and then clutch them by the beaks or heads, and hold
them wriggling in his cruel grasp; and it was this tendency that induced
him, in the heat of disappointment, and without any reference whatever
to sex, to call the cocks "big hens!"
The hens, on the other hand, exhibited gentle and trusting natures. Of
course there was vanity of character among them, as there is among
ladies; but, for the most part, they were wont to rush towards their
human friends in a body, and peck the crumbs--at first timidly, then
boldly--from their palms. There was one hen--a black and ragged one,
with only half a tail, and a downtrodden aspect--which actually went the
length of jumping up on little Tilly's knee, and feeding out of her lap.
It even allowed her to stroke its back, but it evidently permitted
rather than enjoyed the process.
On the morning in question, the black hen was bolder than usual; perhaps
it had not breakfasted that day, for it was foremost in the rush when
the family appeared with chairs and stools, and leaped on Tilly's knee,
without invitation, as soon as she was seated; whereupon Tilly called it
"a dear darling pretty 'ittle pet," and patted its back.
"Why, the creature seems quite fond of you, my child," said Mrs
Sudberry.
"So it is, mamma. It loves me, I know, by the way it looks at me with
its beautiful black eye. What a pity the other is not so nice! I think
the poor darling must be blind of that eye."
There was no doubt about that. Blackie's right eye was blinder than any
bat's; it was an opaque white ball--a circumstance which caused it no
little annoyance, for the other eye had to do duty for both, and this
involved constant screwing of the head about, and unwearied
watchfulness. It was as if a solitary sentinel were placed to guard the
front and back doors of a house at one and the same time. Despite
Blackie's utmost care, Jacky got on her blind side more than once, and
caught her by the remnant of her poor tail. This used to spoil Tilly's
morning amusement, and send her sorrowful into the house. But what did
that matter to Jacky? He sometimes broke out worse than usual, and set
the whole brood into an agitated flutter, which rather damaged the
happiness of the family. But what did that matter to Jacky?
Oh! he was a "darling child," _according to his mother_.
For some time the feeding went on quietly enough. The fowls were
confiding. Mr Sudberry was becoming immensely philosophical; Mrs
Sudberry was looking on in amiable gratification; George had prevailed
on a small white hen to allow him to scratch her head; Fred was taking a
rapid portrait of the smallest cock; Lucy had drawn the largest
concourse towards herself by scattering her crumbs on the ground; Jacky
had only caught two chickens by their beaks and one hen by its tail, and
was partially strangling another; and the nine McAllister dogs were
ranged in a semicircle round the group, looking on benignantly, and
evidently inclined to put in for a share, but restrained by the memory
of past rebuffs--when little Blackie, standing on Tilly's knee, and
having eaten a large share of what was going, raised itself to its full
height, flapped its wings, and gave utterance to a cackle of triumph! A
burst of laughter followed--and Tilly gave a shriek of delighted
surprise that at once dissolved the spell, and induced the horrified
fowl to seek refuge in precipitate flight.
"By the way," said Mrs Sudberry, "that reminds me that this would be a
most charming day for your excursion over the mountains to that Lake
What-you-may-call-it."
What connection there was between the little incident just described and
the excursion to Lake "What-you-may-call-it" we cannot pretend to state;
but there must have been some sort of connection in Mrs Sudberry's
brain, and we record her observation because it was the origin of this
day's proceedings. Mr Sudberry had, for some time past, talked of a
long walking excursion with the whole family to a certain small loch or
tarn among the hills. Mrs Sudberry had made up her mind,--first, that
she would not go; and second, that she would get everyone else to go, in
order to let Mrs Brown and Hobbs have a thorough cleaning-up of the
house. This day seemed to suit for the excursion--hence her propounding
of the plan. Poor delicate Tilly seldom went on long expeditions,--she
was often doomed to remain at home.
Mr Sudberry shouted, "Capital! huzza!" clapped his hands, and rushed
into the house to prepare, scattering the fowls like chaff in a
whirlwind. Fired by his example, the rest of the family followed.
"But we must have our bathe first, papa," cried Lucy.
"Certainly, my love, there will be time for that." So away flew Lucy to
the nursery, whence she re-issued with Jacky, Tilly, Mrs Brown, and
towels.
The bathing-pool was what George called a "great institution." In using
this slang expression George was literally correct, for the bathing-pool
was not a natural feature of the scenery: it was artificial, and had
been instituted a week after the arrival of the family. The loch was a
little too far from the house to be a convenient place of resort for
ablutionary purposes. Close beside the house ran a small burn. Its
birthplace was one of those dark glens or "corries" situated high up
among those mountains that formed a grand towering background in all
Fred's sketches of the White House. Its bed was rugged and broken--a
deep cutting, which the water had made on the hill-side. Here was quite
a forest of dwarf-trees and shrubs; but so small were they, and so deep
the torrent's bed, that you could barely see the tree-tops as you
approached the spot over the bare hills. In dry weather this burn
tinkled over a chaos of rocks, forming myriads of miniature cascades and
hosts of limpid little pools. During heavy rains it ran roaring
riotously over its rough bed with a force that swept to destruction
whatever chanced to come in its way.
In this burn, screened from observation by an umbrageous coppice, was
the bathing-pool. No pool in the stream was deep enough, in ordinary
weather, to take Jacky above the knees; but one pool had been found,
about two hundred yards from the house, which was large enough, if it
had only been deeper. To deepen it, therefore, they went--every member
of the family.