around the house till he came to Mr. Maxwell's room at
the back. It opened on the veranda by a glass door, and the door stood
ajar. The rabbit squeezed himself in, and the hen stayed out. She
watched for a while, and when he didn't come back, she flew upon the
back of a chair that stood near the door, and put her head under her
wing.

I went back to my bed, for I knew they would do no harm. Early in the
morning, when I was walking around the house, I heard a great shouting
and laughing from Mr. Maxwell's room. He and Mr. Harry had just
discovered the hen and the rabbit; and Mr. Harry was calling his mother
to come and look at them. The rabbit had slept on the foot of the bed.

Mr. Harry was chaffing Mr. Maxwell very much, and was telling him that
any one who entertained him was in for a traveling menagerie. They had a
great deal of fun over it, and Mr. Maxwell said that he had had that
pretty, white hen as a pet for a long time in Boston. Once when she ha$
some little chickens, a frightened rabbit, that was being chased by a
dog, ran into the yard. In his terror he got right under the hen's
wings, and she sheltered him, and pecked at the dog's eyes, and kept him
off till help came. The rabbit belonged to a neighbor's boy, and Mr.
Maxwell bought it from him. From the day the hen protected him, she
became his friend, and followed him everywhere.

I did not wonder that the rabbit wanted to see his master. There was
something about that young man that made dumb animals just delight in
him. When Mrs. Wood mentioned this to him he said, "I don't know why
they should--I don't do anything to fascinate them."

"You love them," she said, "and they know it. That is the reason."

* * * * *

CHAPTER XXV

A HAPPY HORSE

For a good while after I went to Dingley Farm I was very shy of the
horses, for I was afraid they might kick me, thinking that I was a "bad
dog" like Bruno. However, they all had such good faces, and looked at me
so kindly, that I was beginning to get over my fear of them.

Fleetfoot, Mr. Harry's colt, was my favorite, and one afternoon, when
Mr. Harry and Miss Laura were going out to see him, I followed them.
Fleetfoot was amusing himself by rolling over and over on the grass
under a tree, but when he saw Mr. Harry, he gave a shrill whinny, and
running to him, began nosing about his pockets.

"Wait a bit," said Mr. Harry, holding him by the forelock. "Let me