to it; they are very cruel to it,
Miss Bazeley says, and she asked me if I would like to have it. May I,
Cousin Charlotte? Do you mind? I will take care of it, and then some
day, when it lays eggs, you shall have all the eggs."

"Well, we will see about that when the time comes," said Cousin Charlotte.
"Yes, dear, you may certainly keep it. I foresee I shall have a rival
poultry-yard in my own garden."

Angela and Poppy ran off in a state of the highest glee; but when they got
to the yard, and all the hens ran towards them in expectation, they were
afraid to trust their treasure alone among the crowd.

"You will have to try to get one of the hens to mother it," said Miss
Charlotte, who had followed them, "or it will die of cold and loneliness."

This presented some difficulty. As soon as the little chick was put down
it would run to the nearest hen as if it thought it had found its mother,
but the hens would have nothing to say to it; first one and then another
pecked it savagely, until the poor little thing was nearly scared to
death.

At last Miss Charlotte threw down some oatmeal before a coop where a
solemn old hen sat with half a dozen chicks playing about her. As soon as
they saw the food, the greedy little creatures poured out, while the
mother rose and clucked noisily with annoyance at not being able to
follow. Angela put the orphan chick down amongst the others; for a second
it cheeped pitifully; then it, too, began to eat. As soon as the last
grain had gone some more was thrown into the coop for the old hen. All
the chicks poured back helter-skelter into the coop, the orphan amongst
them, and the hen took it into her family circle without demur, and the
baby Plymouth Rock's life was saved.

After that, to say that Angela was as fussy as a hen with one chick was to
speak but very mildly of her condition. She looked on it as the
foundation of her fortunes, and, surely, she thought, no one had ever
owned such a beautiful chick before.

The next day Penelope went to the church at twelve o'clock to have her
first lesson. She went off jubilantly; she returned a little less so.
Miss Row was unaccustomed to children, or to teaching, and she had never
been considered a patient woman.

"I believe it is going to be dreadfully hard," Penelope confided to the
others, as they gathered round her. They had all gone to meet her, and
hear her experiences. They had always been so much together that what
hap