THE FUSS IN THE POULTRY-YARD.
HERE is no sign of a fuss to be seen in the picture. Little Ellen is feeding a quiet old hen, and two or three younger ones are slowly coming up to see what is going on. All is calm and serene.
But if we could look round a corner, and take a view of the other side of the barnyard, we should see something quite exciting.
The trouble was made by three hens of foreign breed. They felt so proud because they had big tufts on their heads, that they looked down on the native barn-yard fowls. One old white hen they never cease to pick upon.
Now, the old white hen, although plain, was very smart. If there was a good fat worm to be found anywhere, she was sure to scratch it up. This was what caused the fuss.
Old Whitey scratched up a worm. Three tufted hens at once tried to take it away from her. There was a chase all around the barnyard. Old Whitey, with the worm in her mouth, kept the lead.
Out she dashed through an opening in the fence. Down she went, down the hill back of the barn. The three tufted hens, like three highwaymen, were close upon her.
Well, what was the end of it? They didn't get the worm; I can tell you that. But there was a fight, and I can't say that poor Whitey got off without being badly pecked.
UNCLE CHARLES.