But the hen was already disturbed, for she looked up and saw the children and then, with a loud cackle, she fluttered off the nest and ran across the barn floor.
“Oh, I didn’t mean to scare her!” murmured Nan.
“You didn’t do any harm,” said Mr. Watson, with a laugh. “That’s Old Speck, as we call her. She always steals away to make a nest for herself, lays a lot of eggs in it and then hatches out a brood of chickens. I’ve been trying for a week to find her nest. Show me where it is. Are there any eggs in it?”
“Oh, a lot of them!” cried Nan.
“About a dozen,” reported Bert.
“Then she’s getting ready to hatch out a family of little chickens,” Mr. Watson said. “I’ll be on the watch for them, now that I know where she has hidden her nest. It’s queer you found it so soon, Nan, when I’ve been looking for it a week and couldn’t find it.”
“I guess maybe the wind blew away some hay that was over the top, and that’s why I saw her,” explained the little girl, and this seemed to be about the way of it.
“Well, I’ll put a board over the hole from the top, so she won’t be disturbed again,” Mr. Watson said. “Get a board, Zeek. Old Speck must crawl in under the barn to get on her nest, so the board won’t shut her out.”
The rain was lessening now, and the lightning was not so sharp nor the thunder so loud. All signs pointed to a clearing off of the storm. Meanwhile, Flossie and Freddie were having fun in the hay until, all of a sudden, Flossie gave a scream of excitement and cried:
“There! Now look, Freddie Bobbsey, what you did! You’ve killed her!”