Louisa, "and what's more, I think if 

 you would bridle your vanit)' it would 

 be much more to your advantage. You 

 want to do all the talking — and eating, 

 too," she added in an undertone. 



"She's but a young thing," loftily 

 said Mr. Rooster, " and I have to over- 

 look much of her insolence, you know. 

 Another year will find her less spirited, 

 like Georgiana and Marthena and Su- 

 key over there. But let us resume our 

 conversation. About what do you want 

 to interview me?" 



First, I should like to know — why, 

 do you intend to come out?" I inter- 

 rupted as he moved nearer the fence. 



" Oh, no; but it's just as well that the 

 women folks don't hear all we have to 

 say. They have such a disagreeable 

 fashion of contradicting, you know, 

 and such good memories, that when 

 you're least expecting it up they'll 

 drag some remark made months ago 

 to clinch an argument against you. 

 Females are such queer creatures — but 

 I beg your pardon," he added apologet- 

 ically, remembering my sex. " I for- 

 got." 



" How many wives have you?" I 

 queried, beginning the interview. 



" Well," marking with his claws in 

 the sand as he named over Louisa 

 Mercedes, Cassie, Maud, and a number 

 of others. " I have, as near as I can 

 figure it, about nine now." 



" Now?" I repeated. 



"Yes. I had more the first of the 

 season, but the folks up at the house 

 have the habit of coming through that 

 door in the barn yonder when the min- 

 ister comes to dinner and carrying off 

 any member of my family which strikes 

 their fancy. I don't know what they 

 do with them, I am sure, but presently 

 I hear a dreadful squawk or two in the 

 woodshed, a flouncing around, and then 

 all is still. It is very painful, I assure 

 you," and Mr. Rooster, lifting one foot, 

 pretended to wipe a tear from his 

 sharp, dry eyes. 



" You defend them, of course," I re- 

 sponded, endeavoring to appear solemn. 



" Of course," swaggered the husband 

 and father, " and sometimes I crow as 

 loud as I can for an hour or so after- 

 ward." 



"Crow?" 



no, I 



over 



" Yes, to let the folks know Fnt not 

 conquered." 



" Haven't you," I asked^ to hide my 

 mirth, " a preference for some of your 

 wives over others?" 



Mr. Rooster gravely surveyed his 

 household. 



" No," he said reflectively, 

 can't say that I have." 



" But that white one," I said, 

 yonder. She is so handsome." 



" Maud, that white and silver Wyan- 

 dotte, you mean. H'm, yes. She's too 

 handsome. I have a great deal of 

 trouble with her." 



" Trouble — how?" 



"Oh, in various ways," with a frown. 

 "She is too pretty to work, she thinks, 

 and spends half her time in preening 

 her feathers, polishing her toe nails, or, 

 what's worse, staring through the fence 

 over yonder at that proud, long-legged 

 Mr. Shanghai. He's a foreign bird, you 

 know, and thinks himself a deal better 

 than a common American Plymouth 

 Rock. There's going to be trouble be- 

 tween us yet, mark my words." 



"You have no trouble, I suppose with 

 the older ones," I returned, suppress- 

 ing a smile. 



"No, not in that way, ma'am. They 

 quarrel a good deal about their chil- 

 dren, however. Sukey — that brown 

 and white Leghorn over there — thinks 

 her children are veritable little angels 

 with wings, and Georgiana — an out-and- 

 out Plymouth Rock like myself — says 

 they are little demons, her own brood 

 being the little angels, you perceive. 

 Twenty times a day I have to chastise 

 the whole lot, mothers and all. In- 

 deed," with a sigh, "I have a notion to 

 turn them all out some day, just to have 

 peace. Ail, except Jennie, the black 

 Langshan. She's old to be sure, but a 

 great comfort to me." 



"Of course, of course," sneered a 

 voicebehind him. "Precious little spunk 

 has Jennie, scratchingaround from morn- 

 ing till night that she may turn up a bug 

 or worm for a lazy old curmudgeon like 

 you. So you intend to turn me out on 

 the cold, cold world some day, do you? 

 Hm! we'll see about that." 



"That's Jane," grinned Mr. Rooster, 

 without turning around, "I hope they 



133 



