For you must know that at "The
Nest" Sunbeam is called the "Old Hen." That is, she has charge of the
chickens. They know her so well that, when she feeds them, they fly up on
her shoulders and eat out of her hands. And if there is any unfortunate
one, it is well cared for. One poor, little wayward pullet wandered into
our neighbor's garden. She was very naughty, doubtless, but she got
severely punished; for our neighbor thinks a great deal of his garden,
and not much of chickens, unless they are fricasseed. He shot at our
little runaway pullet, and the poor thing came home dragging a broken and
useless leg. Now, if any chicken ever had good care, our little "Lamey"
has. After weary weeks of suffering in hot weather, it is at last able to
walk on both feet, though the broken leg is sadly crooked. The children
do not object to having the other chickens killed for the table, but
little Lamey's life is insured.
But how did I get to talking about chickens? I was going to say that when
I came home, and found the folks paring apples, I went out in the shed,
too, and sat down by the Little Chick.
And Chicken Little jerked her head and looked mischievously out of her
bright eyes, and said: "See how nice we is peelin' apples.
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