He was too much of a boy still not to be amused. He turned to the scholars with a smile.
“I see you have got a new teacher,” he said.
The scholars laughed, and the hen, by way of asserting her position, flapped her wings and uttered a cry.
“I dare say,” continued Walter, “the hen is competent to teach the one who put her there, but I am afraid she wouldn’t prove generally satisfactory.”
There was another laugh, but this time it was at Peter’s expense. Peter did not join in the mirth. It always made him angry to feel that he was the subject of mirth, or ridicule, and his face showed his anger.
“Besides,” said Walter, “in this free country I don’t approve of compulsion, and the hen is evidently unwilling to assume the duties of teacher; therefore I shall release her. If her owner is present and would like to take charge of her, he can come forward.”
Walter took out his knife and was about to sever the string which secured the hen to the chair, when Peter, with a defiant air, rose from his seat, and advancing to the front, said: “That is my hen.”
“Is it?” said Walter, not appearing surprised. “Didn’t it give you considerable trouble to bring her here?”
“No,” said Peter, regarding the teacher attentively, to see whether he was making game of him. But there was nothing in the young teacher’s manner to indicate this.
“How did you bring her--in your hand?”