THE HEN THAT HATCHED DUCKS. / 



ried ? " said Dame Scratchard. " I don't expect she '11 raise 

 a single chick ; and there 's Gray Cock flirting about, fine 

 as ever. Folks did n't do so when I was young. I 'm sure 

 my husband knew what treatment a setting hen ought to 

 have, poor old Long Spur, he never minded a peck or 

 so now and then. I must say these modern fowls a'n't what 

 fowls used to be." 



Meanwhile the sun rose and set, and Master Fred was 

 almost the only friend and associate of poor little Mrs. Feath- 

 ertop, whom he fed daily with meal and water, and only in- 

 terrupted her sad reflections by pulling her up occasionally 

 to see how the eggs were coming on. 



At last, " Peep, peep, peep ! " began to be heard in the nest, 

 and one little downy head after another poked forth from 

 under the feathers, surveying the world with round, bright, 

 winking eyes ; and gradually the brood were hatched, and 

 Mrs. Feathertop arose, a proud and happy mother, with all 

 the bustling, scratching, care-taking instincts of family-life 

 warm within her breast. She clucked and scratched, and 

 cuddled the little downy bits of things as handily and dis- 

 creetly as a seven-year-old hen could have done, exciting 

 thereby the wonder of the community. 



Master Gray Cock came home in high spirits, and com- 

 plimented her ; told her she was looking charmingly once 

 more, and said, " Very well, very nice ! " as he surveyed the 

 young brood. So that Mrs. Feathertop began to feel the 



