[Illustration: THE SNOW WAS QUITE DEEP.]
The next morning when she fitted the key into the padlock and threw
open the door, and no silver hen came clucking out, it was very
mysterious. Dame Louisa came running to the fence which divided her
yard from Dame Penny's, and stood leaning on it with her apron over
her head.
"Are you sure that hen was in the coop when you locked the door?" said
she.
"Of course she was in the coop," replied Dame Penny with dignity. "She
has never failed to go in there at sundown for all the twenty-five
years that I've had her."
Dame Penny carefully searched everywhere about the premises. When the
scholars assembled she called the school to order, and told them of
her terrible loss. All the scholars crooked their arms over their
faces and wept, for they were very fond of Dame Penny, and also of the
silver hen. Every one of them wore one of her silver tail-feathers
in the best bonnet, or hat, as the case might be. The silver hen had
dropped them about the yard, and Dame Penny had presented them from
time to time as rewards for good behavior.
After Dame Penny had told the school, she tried to proceed with the
usual exercises. But in vain. She whipped one little boy because he
said that four and three made seven, and she stood a little girl in
the corner because she spelled hen with one _n_.
Pages:
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118
119