“Yes, Peter-two,” said little Anne, getting down from Kit’s lap and going serenely toward the door.
“Who let out all the hens? I’ll bet I know!” growled Peter.
“Oh, yes; so do I,” said little Anne. “It was me, Petey, but they didn’t go away. They stayed around; I watched ’em—a while.”
“Yes, a while!” Peter scorned her. “How long? Didn’t father say I had no business to keep hens in town, and I’d have to give ’em up if they annoyed the neighbours? They’re annoying them all right, all right! Over at Davis’s next door scratching up the last lettuce leaf this minute, and all their peas done for! Now dad’ll make me sell ’em, after I’ve bought feed at the price it was all winter, and now it’s spring and the hens were going to pay back some of it! And I was going to set ’em!”
“And have dear little fluffy chicks? I know, Peter dear; you told me,” cried Anne with feeling. “Oh, you don’t think father’ll be so cruel as to stop us?”
“Us! Well, I like your nerve!” Peter’s contempt was beyond his power of expression. “Sure he’ll make me sell ’em. What in the dev—what made you let ’em out? Of all the contemptible tricks! And of all troublesome, meddlesome children! They spoil you, Anne Berkley. You’re a spoiled kid, and I hate to think what’ll become of you.”
“You shouldn’t swear, Peter,” said Anne with the calm dignity of an archbishop. “Of course I’m not spoiled. Do you think my father and mother could? They wouldn’t be seen spoiling me! And the reason I let those hens out, if you want to know, is because one got her head through the wire, and we thought she’d choke to death. Monica was with me. Her eyes just goggled out and her neck got as long! It was fearful! It made us sick to shove her back, but we did. Then we knew if one got choked they all might, so we let ’em out, and I meant to tell you, but I forgot. We watched ’em for goodness knows how long, and they just kept around as harmless! Don’t you worry about father, Peter-two! I’ll tell him how it happened, and he’ll understand. He’ll buy the Davises some more lettuce and peas and things. I’ll get him to let you keep the hens, Peter-two; don’t you worry!”
“And you’re not spoiled! Oh, no. Not a-tall!” growled Peter, returning to his room to prepare for the merry sport of driving his hens out of a neighbour’s garden. The worst of it to Peter’s mind was that he knew that Anne would be able to do precisely as she promised, that her explanation would mollify, if not amuse, his father, and that Peter would keep his hens through her intercession. The thought infuriated him. He turned back to the stairway and called down:
“You get a move on you and come help me head those hens, or they’ll go down to the city hall and dig out the statue of old Carrington on the mall!”
“Oh, Peter-two, take care! That’s Kit’s great-grandfather, or somebody, and he’s here!” remonstrated Anne in a shocked voice, as one always right.