To our amazement, that dog’s one idea when he got to the country was to have something to boss. He would have preferred sheep, but Mr. Bonstone could not keep any, as we are too near the city. Sir Walter could do nothing with the horses, for the men were with them all the time, and told them what to do.
“He wants to run a show of his own,” Gringo used to say, “and though I like the dog, he ain’t going to boss me!”
He couldn’t boss me, either, and not one of the showman’s dogs minded a word he said. He did fuss round the Jersey cows a bit, but the lad that drove them to and from the pasture wouldn’t have Sir Walter interfering, so he took to following Mrs. Bonstone about when she took care of her large flock of hens.
They were beautiful white Wyandottes, and were kind and sensible. It is wonderful what intelligence hens have when one treats them well. Sir Walter got interested in them, found he could order them about to his heart’s content, and when seeding-time came, he had made himself so useful that kind-hearted Mrs. Bonstone was delighted to be able to give them their liberty, under his superintendence.
Those hens knew just as well as Christians that it was naughty to scratch up the seeds in the vegetable and flower gardens, but they had a pleasant little way of yielding to temptation till Sir Walter took them in hand.
“Bow, wow! chickies,” he would say, running round and round them, and carefully steering them away from danger points to the orchard or the meadow, or the new land that was being broken up by a plough.
Those hens minded him beautifully, and he was as happy as the day was long.
At first, the other dogs would roar with laughter to see him rush out to the hen-houses in the morning, wait for his charges to be let out, and wander about with them all day.
One day he caught Yeggie making faces at him, and gave him a great walloping, and that taught all of us to be more respectful. If he liked hens, he had a right to associate with them.