Suppose we all see how
much we can accomplish in the next ten minutes."
Upon this Mollie caught up the block lying in her lap, Florence
re-threaded her needle, Nellie Dimock hunted up her thimble, which had
rolled under the table, and industry was the order of the day.
And while they worked, Miss Ruth told the story of
THE WIDOW BANTAM.
"She belonged to our next-door neighbor, and we called her the Widow
because her mate--a fine plucky little bantam rooster--was one day slain
while doing battle with the great red chanticleer who ruled the
hen-yard.
"I took pity on the little hen in her loneliness, and singled her out
from the flock for special attention. She very soon knew my voice, would
come at my call, and used to slip through a gap in the fence and pay me
a visit every day. If the kitchen door were open she walked in without
ceremony; if closed, she flew to the window, tapped on the glass with
her bill, flapped her wings, and gave us clearly to understand that she
wished to be admitted. Once inside, she set up a shrill cackling till I
attended to her wants, and scolded me at the top of her voice if I kept
her long waiting. When she had eaten more cracked corn and Indian meal
than you would think so small a body could contain, she walked about in
a slow, contented way, and was ready for all the petting we chose to
give her.
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