The Adventures of Joel Pepper Part 42

Phronsie didn't hear him, her whole attention being absorbed by the wonderful chickens. So Joel cautiously pulled up one slat of the coop a very little way. "There, you see," he cried in exultation, "I can do it just as easy as not;" when a bee, humming its way along, stung him smartly on the arm, and Joel twitched so suddenly that up went the slat quite high, and before he could stop them, out walked the old mother hen, and two of her children.

"Oh, Joe, Joe! they're out!" screamed David. Phronsie rolled over on the gra.s.s in a little ball, as Joel knocked against her, and n.o.body thought for a moment of shutting the bar down. So three more chickens stepped out and hopped away over the gra.s.s.

"Oh, Joe, Joe, they're all coming out!" cried David, quite beside himself with horror.

"Shut the bar! shut the bar!" screamed Joel, running hither and thither, and only making the mother frantic, in her efforts to get away from him, and to protect her brood.

"I can't," mourned Davie, tugging bravely at it. So Joel stopped chasing the hen and the chickens, and rushed up to slam down the bar, and two more chickens having hopped out in the meantime, there they were--seven downy little b.a.l.l.s, hurrying about in a great state of excitement to reach mother, who was clucking noisily for them to hurry and come under her wing.

"Oh, Joe! see what you've done," cried Davie, in distress, trying to help in every direction, but only succeeding in getting in the way. "O dear me! You can't ever get 'em back in the coop, in all this world." Phronsie, meanwhile, picked herself up, and eagerly entered into the chase, gurgling in delight as she pattered first after one little fluffy ball, and then another.

"Yes, I can," said Joel, confidently, rus.h.i.+ng here and there.

"You stand still, Dave, and don't let 'em get by you. Then I'll drive 'em up."

But after about five minutes of this sort of work, Joel found that he couldn't do it very well, for as fast as he got one chicken headed for David, the others all scattered in every direction, while Mistress Biddy scampered and waddled and clacked to her children, till the parsonage garden seemed full of hens and chickens. At last Joel stopped and wiped his hot face, David looking at him from a distance in despair.

"You stay there, Dave, I'm going to tell 'em," and Joel marched off with an awful feeling at his heart. But he didn't dare to stop to think about it, but mounted the steps of the parsonage and went down the wide hall. There was n.o.body to be seen, and Joel was just going to run out to the kitchen, if, perhaps, Mrs.

Henderson could be found there. Suddenly the study door opened, and there stood the minister himself in the doorway.

"Well, Joel," said Parson Henderson, kindly, "I'm glad to see you. Do you want anything, my boy?"

Joel's knees knocked together, but he answered, "I've let all the hens and chickens out."

"You've let all the hens and chickens out?" repeated the minister, but he only half understood, and stood staring down into Joel's black eyes.

"Yes, sir," said Joel, twisting his brown hands together tightly.

If he should cry now, before his story was told, maybe the minister would never get those chickens into the coop. He must make him understand. "They're all running everywhere in the gra.s.s," he added miserably.

"Do you mean Mrs. Henderson's new chickens?" asked the minister, starting a bit. Then he added composedly, "Oh, no, Joel, they're quite safe. She is very particular about looking after the coop herself."

"But they are," gasped Joel. Then he forgot that it was the minister, and seized his hand. "Please--they're running awfully, and they'll die, maybe."

Parson Henderson bestowed on him a long searching gaze. "How did they get out?" he asked.

"I let 'em out," blurted Joel, "and they're all running. Do come, sir." And he fairly tugged at the minister's hand as if it had been David's.

The parson went swiftly down the long hall, Joel hanging to his hand. Just then a voice called down the winding stairs, _"Jotham! Jotham!"_

It was Miss Jerusha. Joel gave one glance up the stairs, and held tighter than ever to the minister's hand. "Do come," he cried, in an agony. "Oh, please! sir."

"Mehitable's chickens are out!" screamed Miss Jerusha, now appearing at the top of the stairs. She was in a short gown and petticoat, and had been doing up her hair, having just taken the ends of the side wisps out of her mouth, where she had conveyed them for the easier combing of the back locks.

"I know it," said Parson Henderson, quietly; "Joel has just told me." With that he pressed the little brown hand that was in his own.

"Go back to your room, Jerusha," he said. "I'll see to the chickens."

"And there's those other two Pepper children," cried Miss Jerusha after him, with a tart look at Joel, "all over the place.

And Mehitable is baking a cake for 'em--think of it!"

"Is she baking a cake for us?" cried Joel, finding his tongue, as the minister, still holding his hand, went out toward the garden.

"Yes," said Parson Henderson, "she is, Joel."

"And I've let out all her hens and chickens!" cried Joel. "O dear, dear!" and the tears he couldn't hold back any longer rained all down his chubby face.

"See here," Parson Henderson stopped a minute, "if you're going to help me, Joel, you can't cry, that's very certain. Why, I expect you and I will have every one of those chickens safe and sound in that coop in--well, in next to no time."

"I'll help you!" cried Joel, das.h.i.+ng off the tears at once, and swallowing hard. "Oh, do hurry, please, Mr. Henderson," pulling hard at the kind hand.

"Softly--softly there, Joel, my boy," said the minister. "If we're going to get those chickens into that coop, we mustn't scare them to begin with. Now, you run into the barn, and get a little corn in the quart measure."

So Joel, glad of something to do, dropped the minister's hand, and ran off at lightning speed, and soon raced back again with the quart measure half full of corn.

"That's well," said Parson Henderson, approvingly. "Now then, the first thing to do is to make the mother go back into the coop. Here, Mrs. Biddy, take a bit of this nice corn." He flung out a kernel or two to the hen, whose feathers that had started up in a ruffle and fluff, at sight of Joel, now drooped, and her excited clacking stopped.

"Keep perfectly still, Joel," said Parson Henderson, over his shoulder.

All this time, Phronsie and David, at sight of Parson Henderson's approach, had stood as if frozen to the ground, never taking their eyes from his face, except to look at Joel.

The parson then went along a few steps nearer to the coop, scattering one or two kernels as he went. Mistress Biddy eyed them all wistfully. "Come on," said the minister, gently.

"Cluck--cluck," said the mother hen, sociably, and she waddled slowly, and picked up the first kernels. These were so good that she came readily after the next, and so followed the parson, as he let fall two more. The little fluffy b.a.l.l.s, when they saw their mother so employed, all scampered like mad after her, to surround her. At last, she was so busily employed, that she didn't notice that she was running into an angle formed by the coop and the end of the barn. There was a rush. A sudden squawk, and the parson emerged from this corner, with Mistress Biddy in his hands.

"Now, Joel, you can help me so much," he said cheerily. "Run and push up the bar to the coop. Be careful not to let any more chickens out. There, that's right!" In went Mistress Biddy, who gave an indignant fluff to her gray feathers, and then cackled crossly, and the bar flew down into place.

"That's fine!" exclaimed the minister in great satisfaction, getting up straight again. "Now, Joel, it won't be such a task to catch the little chickens. Come away from the coop, and they'll run up when they hear her call," which was indeed the fact. They soon began to scamper as hard as they could from all directions as Mistress Biddy set up a smart "cluck, cluck,"

until all of the seven were swarming over each other to get into the coop to mother.

It was surprising, then, to see the minister's hands; they seemed to be here, there, and everywhere, and to pounce upon those little fluffy b.a.l.l.s with unerring aim, and presently, there they were, Joel lifting the bar when bidden, in the coop, "peeping" away and huddling up to the dear gray feathery nest.

The chickens who hadn't run out came up, as if wanting to hear the story, and what it was like to be out in the world.

Mr. Henderson sat down on the long gra.s.s. "That's a very good job done, Joel," he said.

Just then the kitchen door opened, and a pleasant voice called, "Come, Joel and David and Phronsie Pepper, I've got a new baked cake for you."

XXIII

THE BLACKBERRIES AND THE BULL

"Now, Joel," said Polly, a few days after, "you mustn't tease for the pie, you know, 'cause Mamsie may not be able to get the white flour."

"P'r'aps she will," said Joel, swinging his tin pail, and kicking the sweet fern with his bare feet; "then, Polly, we could have it, couldn't we?"

"Maybe," said Polly, with her thoughts not so much on blackberry pie, as how good it was to be out of doors for a whole afternoon.

"Oh, Joe, what a big b.u.t.terfly!"