On the morning after the family left, a pale and quiet Man, wearing glasses, came out in a platform wagon to look over the farm. He had been there but a short time when two great loads of furniture appeared down the road. Then the Man took off his coat and helped the drivers carry it all into the little farmhouse. The fowls, who happened to be near enough, noticed that the Man never lifted anything which seemed to be heavy. They noticed, too, that his hands were rather small and very white. Still he acted as though he expected to live on the place. With the others helping him, he put down two carpets and set up two stoves.
The other Men drove away, leaving the single Horse and the platform wagon. The Man washed his hands, put on his coat, and brought a pasteboard box out onto the side porch. He opened it carefully, took out a glass, and drew up a bucketful of water at the well. He filled his glass and carried it back to the porch. Then he began to eat his dinner.
All the farm people had been properly cared for that morning by the Farmer from across the road, and felt sure that he would not see them wanting food, so it was not just a wish for something to eat which made every creature there come quietly to a place near the side porch. They were certain that they belonged to this Man, and they wanted to find out what he was like.
“I hope he isn’t expecting to milk me,” said Brown Bess. “I don’t believe he could draw a drop from my udders, and he would probably set the stool down on the wrong side anyhow.”
Bobs and Snip were no longer on the farm, having gone to town, to work there with their old master, so the Hog was the next to speak. “I hope he won’t eat that kind of dinner every day,” said she. “It looks to me as though there would be no scraps left to go into my pail.”
“Ugh! Ugh! Stingy!” grunted the little Pigs. “He wants it all for himself!” They did not stop to think that every time food was emptied into their trough, each of them acted as though he wanted every drop and crumb of it for himself.
The Gobbler strutted up and down near the porch, with his feathers on end and his wings dragging. “There is just one thing I like about the Man,” said he. “He does not wear a red tie.”
“I can’t tell exactly what is the matter,” said the Gander, “but he is certainly very different from any Man I ever saw before. I think he must belong to a different breed. The things he has on his feet are much blacker and shinier than the Men around here wear, and that stiff and shiny white thing around his neck is much higher. I hope he is not stupid. I cannot bear stupid people.”
“Neither can we,” murmured the Geese. “We really cannot bear them.”