fore, but
I declare I mean to tame one of these. They're the sharpest, cutest
little scaramouches you ever saw: as funny as kittens, and twice as
intelligent as puppies. Yes; I'm a pig enthusiast at present, and if
you laugh I'll make you buy one for yourself!"

There was plenty of scope for Gwen's energy as spring came on and
added hatch after hatch of fluffy chickens and downy ducklings to
Winnie's hen-yard. She helped to arrange the coops, to make wired
enclosures for the tiny chicks, and, hardest task of all, to collect
the young pullets and cockerels that were allowed to roam on the
common, and lock them up safely for the night.

"No one who hasn't tried henkeeping could possibly conceive the
difficulty of getting in those wretched long-legged, half-fledged
fowls," declared Gwen. "They know I'm going to shut them up, and
they're so clever they come for the Indian corn when I call 'chuck,
chuck', and eat it with one eye upon me. Then when I try to cajole
them into the henhouse they fly all ways. Lesbia, you may come and act
guard, but I won't have the boys; they only rush about and frighten
the chickens. The last time I took Stumps the Buff Orpington with the
black feather in its tail flew over the hedge into the turnip field.
I didn't get him back till it was moonlight, then I caught him
perching on a stump, and carried him round."

The particular pride of Winnie's heart was a clutch of little
Partridge Wyandottes, mothered by a comfortable old Plymouth Rock hen.
The setting of eggs had been given her by a farmer's wife in the
neighbourhood; they were from a particularly good strain, and ten out
of the dozen had hatched and thrived. She watched over them with more
than ordinary zeal, leaving manifold instructions with Nellie for
their diet during her absence at school, and visiting them the very
first after her return each afternoon. On the evenings when she took
the choir practice at church she entrusted them solely to Gwen's
charge.

"Give them a last feed of 'Chikko', and see that they've got clean
water, and don't let Jingles go near them, because the old hen gets
excited, and stamps about and treads on them," urged Winnie one
Wednesday as she started off with a roll of music in her hand. "Be
sure you shut them up early, because Nellie says she saw a rat last
night, and I noticed something had been burrowing near the shed."

Gwen promised complete accordance with all directions, and then went
off to fini