“It was Star, the off-ox; there couldn’t be a doubt of it.
“‘I don’t know,’ answered the brown pullet, winking upside-down after her custom, ‘you great things are almost too quiet. One has to be lively to get one’s supper, you know.’
“As she spoke she made a quick run after a tiny insect which had been called out of its cranny by the warm sun, caught it on the wing, and went on with what she had been saying.
“‘In the first place, Star,’ she said, more gravely, ‘no one would be angry without good reason, and then they wouldn’t beat animals for nothing, would they, Billy?’
“The horse who was thus addressed seemed to shake his mane, and said something which Zip took to be a very prolonged ‘nay,’ but he wasn’t quite sure he answered at all.
“‘Nobody would be selfish, and everybody would be kind,’ continued Brown Pullet, ‘and trying to please others instead of themselves. They wouldn’t hurt the feelings of anybody nor any thing. There’s Zip, now, he wouldn’t throw stones at a robin; he would think how the poor little bird-heart was beating faster and faster, and the soft red feathers throbbing on her breast, as the ugly stone came whizzing through the air to take her life!’
“Zip did think, and was sorry he threw the stone. It was a comfort that he didn’t hit the bird, however, and he made up his mind to throw out some crumbs on the well-curb that very night.
“‘I declare,’ said Brown Pullet, with her feathers just a bit ruffled, ‘when I think of how pleasant and kind and polite and gentle folks might be, and how they do say sharp, hurtful things (which I’ve heard people say do bruise one more even than rocks), it makes me really—there!’ she interrupted herself, ‘I declare, I’m getting angry myself, which don’t help matters much. The best way for me to bring on the good times is to begin myself. Speckle, Speckle,’ she called to one of her companions, ‘here’s the plumpest barleycorn I’ve found to-day. I sha’n’t have any peace till I see you eat it, to make up for my being cross to you this morning when you tipped the water over on my toes. It was cold, to be sure, but ’twas all an accident, and I oughtn’t to have pecked you for it. Dear, dear, how late it’s getting! It’s quite dark, da-a-rk, da-r-r-rk!’
“Zip gave a little jump, he hardly knew why, and looked about him. The hens were still walking about the floor below, for he heard them as plainly as before, only he couldn’t seem to make out what they said, and somehow, too, he was back in his soft hay-nest again. He rubbed his eyes, and stretched his sturdy little arms, found his way down the ladder, and looked hard at the brown pullet. But she merely clucked in her old way, and, turning her head on one side, looked up at him curiously out of her wise, round eyes.
“Zip then went over to see the two oxen, but they only lifted their heads and watched him in silence for a moment, then gave two great, soft, sweet-breathed sighs, and went on eating their hay.”