Malleville hastily gathered up her leaves, and called out, “What, Phonny? I’m coming.”
Before she got ready to go, however, Phonny appeared upon the piazza.
“Malleville,” said he, “come and see our chickens.”
“Well,” said Malleville, “I will come.”
“And mother, I wish you would come out and see them, too,” said Phonny.
“I have seen them once,” said his mother, “only two or three days ago.”
“But, mother, they are a great deal larger now,” replied Phonny. “I wish you could come and see them. You don’t know how large they have grown.”
“Very well,” said Mrs. Henry, “I will come.”
So she laid aside her work, and stepping out into the piazza, she followed Phonny and Malleville around the corner of the house. Phonny walked fast, with long strides, Malleville skipped along by his side, while Mrs. Henry came on after them at her leisure.
They all gathered round the coop, which had been made in a sunny corner of the yard. It was a very pretty coop indeed. It was formed by a box, turned bottom upward to form a shelter for the hen when she chose to retire to it, and a little yard with a paling around it made by bars, to prevent the chickens from straying away. Phonny said that there was a good, comfortable nest in under the box, and he was going to lift up the box and let Mrs. Henry see the nest, but Stuyvesant recommended to him not to do so, as it would frighten the hen.