You can imagine how busy the boys were all that week.  They asked questions by the thousands of all their friends.  They prowled about barns and henneries and rabbit hutches until the people in the village woke up to the idea that the boys of Hill-top school were taking a lively interest in the welfare of all animals.

“Give my horses an extra ration of oats and rub them down well, Jacob,” said Banker Patterson, with a twinkle in his eye.  “I wouldn’t like to be reported for cruelty to animals, and I notice that young Tommy Dane and that yellow-headed Norton are eying my turnout very curiously.”  Jacob chuckled over the joke, for he well knew that the banker’s horses were the best attended to in the village.

“They say,” said Jacob, “that Master Sunshine, as they call that Norton boy, is at the bottom of the whole business;” and thereupon he told the story to his employer of how the brave little fellow had protected Billy Butler.

“A fine boy that and a promising one,” said Mr. Patterson cordially; “but surely,” he added, with a slight frown, “he did not tell you of it himself?”

“Not he,” laughed Jacob; “but Tommy Dane has been full of it ever since; and Almira Jane, the help over at the cottage, has told me too.  I guess it is owing to her good sense as much as anything else that he’s turned out so well.”

And perhaps it was as well that Jacob did not see the merry twinkle in the banker’s eye at his words.  It was surprising how much Mr. Patterson knew of what went on in the village.

One thing was sure.  None of the boys’ pets suffered during that week.  They had never thought so much of them before; and presently Friday afternoon came, and Mr. Sinclair, leaning back comfortably in his chair, was asking for their stories.

He began with Master Sunshine, because he was the youngest of all; and the little fellow explained how he had learned during the week that heavy hens like his Cochin Chinas should be given low roosts because it was such an effort for them to lift their unwieldy bodies.

“Mine have all been made low now,” he added eagerly; “and Almira Jane says that it is a good common sense-ical idea.”

They all smiled a little over the way he brought in Almira Jane’s name and her funny word.  But they had come to have such respect for the manly little fellow that no one laughed aloud.

Then Tommy told how Jacob had taught him to be kind to a pretty colt which his father was bringing up.

“I always thought it was fun to play with it.  I often teased it just to make it kick out with its front feet,” he said; “but I know now that that sort of teasing, though it does not hurt the colt at the time, teaches it the habit of kicking.  A kicking horse is almost worse than no horse at all.”

“The thing I know about happened last winter,” said his seat-mate.  “There was plenty of snow and ice about, but nothing for the birds to drink; so my sister used to put a saucer of water on the window-ledge each morning.  The birds would come from a long way off to get a sip from it, and they were always glad to pick up a few crumbs she strewed for them.”