“We will go round by the farm first,” said Queenie. “I will show you my chickens.”
The farmyard was certainly an attractive spot, and the little mistress was evidently a great favorite with all the men employed there. Hard, stolid faces smiled kindly upon the two children, and rough hands were eager and willing to do their bidding, whatever it might be.
Queenie talked to the laborers with her little air of stately affability that impressed Bertie very much. He was inclined to be shy and silent himself; but the little girl did not know what shyness meant, and chattered away to him and to every one who came near them in a way that evidently made her an immense favorite.
The chickens were very sweet indeed, little fluffy balls of yellow and black. Bertie was delighted with them, and the children spent a good half-hour in the poultry yard, feeding the fowls and laughing at their funny ways.
“I’ll give you some chickens if you like, when they’re big enough to leave the hen,” said Queenie, who loved to patronize.
“I think the Squire has plenty of his own, thank you,” answered Bertie. “I don’t know if he’d care for me to have any more.”
“Do you like his yard as well as ours?” asked Queenie, rather jealously.
“I don’t know. I’ve never been there.”
“Never been! Why not?”
“I don’t know. I never thought of it. I’m not sure that he’d like me to go.”