Everybody smiled, Bonny most demurely; and the mother understood at once what was the bond of sympathy between these two bright maidens,—one at the end of life, the other at its beginning. “I think, my dear, that you have been charmingly answered. But, Miss Brook, what do you imagine to be the cause of our disturbance? Have you any theory?”
“No, none. I am not a theoretical person. I leave all that to my brother. However, I’ll send a man over to help Roland look about. Master Robert, I suppose that your brother has mentioned to you my plan for your helping the others of this self-helpful family, has he not?”
“What, ma’am?” asked the little boy, quite at a loss to understand.
“Oh, I forget! I am not used to talking with small people. Has Roland told you about the hens?”
“Yes,’m. When can I have ’em?”
“Just as soon as the poultry-house is repaired, and the pickets on the fence. It will not do for them to run about anywhere they please, for that would be to ruin this fine garden that is to be.”
“But there are few seeds in it yet, Miss Brook. Will it make any difference so?”
“Yes, my farmer. If the hens are not trained as they should be in the beginning, they will certainly go astray; in which they are exactly like little boys—and gray-haired girls,” said Miss Joanna, smiling down upon the small lad, who had remained close beside her from the moment of her arrival, but who seemed neither to disturb her nor to wish to do so; which, to his family, was inexplicable.
“Let’s go see how much will have to be ’paired. Will you?”
“With pleasure, if your mother is willing.”