She slipped into the chicken house and returned in
a minute with a small basket of grain. “Here,
Mary Jane,” she said, “you hold this so—and
throw the grain out on the ground so—”
and she did just as she wanted Mary Jane to do, “and
watch them come!”
Mary Jane reached her hand into the basket of grain,
took out a handful and threw it far as she could;
and then how she did laugh as she saw the chickens
scramble for it!
“Can I do it again?” she asked delightedly.
“All you like till the grain is gone,”
replied Grandmother.
“There now,” said Grandmother, after awhile,
“we’ve stayed so long here it’s
’most dinner time. Are you hungry, Mary
Jane?”
Mary Jane started to say no, because she was sure
the morning hadn’t more than begun, but to her
surprise she found she was hungry, oh, awfully
hungry.
“I thought so,” laughed Grandmother, who
guessed what the little girl was thinking, “and
it’s most eleven, so we’d better see what
we’re going to have to eat. How about
chicken and biscuits and apple dumplings and cream?”
“They’re my favorites,” said Mary
Jane, with a little skip of pleasure. “Every
one’s my favorite, all of ’em!”
So she and Grandmother put away the grain basket and
went into the house.
“Now then,” said Grandmother when they
got into the kitchen, “while I get dinner, we’ll
talk.”
“But what’s the matter?” asked Mary
Jane.
“Matter where?” questioned Grandmother.
“I don’t see anything the matter!”
“What’s the matter out there?” said
Mary Jane, pointing out the door to the chicken yard
where they had just been; “something’s
happened.”
Grandmother stepped over to the door where Mary Jane
was standing and looked out. “Oh!”
she exclaimed, for she saw in a minute what Mary Jane
meant, “that noise?”
Mary Jane nodded.
“That noise means that an egg has been laid,”
explained Grandmother, smiling, “and that Mrs.
Hen is very proud of it and wants us to know what
she has done.”
“Oh!” cried Mary Jane happily, “and
then you go out and get them in a basket just like
mother told me she used to do? May I go now?”
“Better not start before dinner,” suggested
Grandmother, “because sometimes egg-hunting
takes quite a little time. Wait till you get
through dinner and then you may hunt all afternoon
if you like—egg-hunting is fun!”
So the minute she was through with her apple dumplings,
Mary Jane asked, “And now, please, may I get
the eggs?”
“Got you hunting eggs already?” asked
Grandfather. “Well, I wonder if you’ll
like it as well as your mother used to. Have
you your basket?”
“Not yet,” said Grandmother. “I
mean to let her get it herself. She’ll
feel more at home when she begins to find her way around
alone. If you locked the pigs in, she can go
anywhere she likes all alone.”
