“Yes, ma'am. They go to pasture days that we are not working them.”
Mrs. Denville and Mary drew up very close in one of the vacant cow stalls, and Denno let out the big animals.
They were beauties, dark red with fine large eyes and big horns. They gave us a calm, steady look as they passed by, then they too went on out into the sunshine.
As soon as they disappeared, Denno seized a big broom and began to sweep and tidy the stable, so that the cows would find it in order when they came home at night.
Mrs. Denville and Mary went out-of-doors, and I, of course, followed them.
Beyond the big barn was what Mr. Gleason called his young orchard. Young, I suppose, because the trees were small, and just on the edge of this orchard stood a red building having many windows.
“It looks like a hen-house,” said Mrs. Denville, “let us go and see.”
We walked toward it, found ourselves confronted by a wooden fence that bounded the pasture. I easily went under it, and after a little searching, Mrs. Denville found a gate. She and Mary went through, then we approached the little building and looked in.
The door was wide open. Inside, there were plastered walls and ceiling and a number of perches. It was as clean as wax, and if it had not been for the perches, if we had seen tables and chairs, I should have said it was some little house for human beings. I am sure many poor people in cities have not a home as snug as Farmer Gleason's hens have.
The windows were open, and the whole place was as quiet as—well, as quiet as the rest of the things in the country. The floor was covered with grass sods, and Mrs. Denville stepping softly in asked, “Is there any one at home?”