“I am glad she saw the guinea-hen,” cried Rose, who now held it in her hands.
“Yes,” said Philip, “she’ll not forget May day in a hurry.”
“Nor I neither, I hope,” said Susan, looking round upon her companions with a most affectionate smile: “I hope, whilst I live, I shall never forget your goodness to me last May day. Now I’ve my pretty guinea-hen safe once more, I should think of returning your money.”
“No! no! no!” was the general cry. “We don’t want the money—keep it, keep it—you want it for your father.”
“Well,” said Susan, “I am not too proud to be obliged. I will keep your money for my father. Perhaps some time or other I may be able to earn—”
“Oh,” interrupted Philip, “don’t let us talk of earning; don’t let us talk to her of money now; she has not had time hardly to look at poor Daisy and her guinea-hen. Come, we must go about our business, and let her have them all to herself.”
The crowd moved away in consequence of Philip’s considerate advice: but it was observed that he was the very last to stir from the garden-wicket himself. He stayed, first, to inform Susan that it was Rose who tied the ribands on Daisy’s head. Then he stayed a little longer to let her into the history of the guinea-hen, and to tell her who it was that brought the hen home from the Abbey.
Rose held the sieve, and Susan was feeding her long lost favourite, whilst Philip leaned over the wicket, prolonging his narration. “Now, my pretty guinea-hen,” said Susan—“my naughty guinea-hen, that flew away from me, you shall never serve me so again. I must cut your nice wings; but I won’t hurt you.”
“Take care,” cried Philip; “you’d better, indeed you’d better let me hold her whilst you cut her wings.”
When this operation was successfully performed, which it certainly could never have been if Philip had not held the hen for Susan, he recollected that his mother had sent him with a message to Mrs. Price. This message led to another quarter of an hour’s delay; for he had the whole history of the guinea-hen to tell over again to Mrs. Price, and the farmer himself luckily came in whilst it was going on, so it was but civil to begin it afresh; and then the farmer was so rejoiced to see his Susan so happy again with her two little favourites that he declared he must see Daisy fed himself; and Philip found that he was wanted to hold the jug full of milk, out of which Farmer Price filled the pan for Daisy? Happy Daisy! who lapped at his ease, whilst Susan caressed him, and thanked her fond father and her pleased mother.