Queer Little Folks | Page 3

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This etext was scanned by David Price, email [email protected]
from the 1897 T. Nelson and Sons edition. Proofing was by Rab
Hughes, Carrie A. Fellman and Susan A. Wheeler.

QUEER LITTLE FOLKS

Contents:
Hen that Hatched Ducks The Nutcrackers of Nutcracker Lodge The
History of Tip-Top Miss Katy-Did and Miss Cricket Mother Magpie's
Mischief The Squirrels that live in a House Hum, the Son of Buz Our
Country Neighbours The Diverting History of Little Whiskey

HEN THAT HATCHED DUCKS

Once there was a nice young hen that we will call Mrs. Feathertop. She
was a hen of most excellent family, being a direct descendant of the
Bolton Grays, and as pretty a young fowl as you could wish to see of a
summer's day. She was, moreover, as fortunately situated in life as it
was possible for a hen to be. She was bought by young Master Fred
Little John, with four or five family connections of hers, and a lively
young cock, who was held to be as brisk a scratcher and as capable a
head of a family as any half-dozen sensible hens could desire.
I can't say that at first Mrs. Feathertop was a very sensible hen. She was
very pretty and lively, to be sure, and a great favourite with Master
Bolton Gray Cock, on account of her bright eyes, her finely shaded
feathers, and certain saucy dashing ways that she had which seemed
greatly to take his fancy. But old Mrs. Scratchard, living in the
neighbouring yard, assured all the neighbourhood that Gray Cock was a
fool for thinking so much of that flighty young thing; THAT she had
not the smallest notion how to get on in life, and thought of nothing in
the world but her own pretty feathers. "Wait till she comes to have
chickens," said Mrs. Scratchard; "then you will see. I have brought up
ten broods myself--as likely and respectable chickens as ever were a

blessing to society--and I think I ought to know a good hatcher and
brooder when I see her; and I know THAT fine piece of trumpery, with
her white feathers tipped with gray, never will come down to family
life. SHE scratch for chickens! Bless me, she never did anything in all
her days but run round and eat the worms which somebody else
scratched up for her."
When Master Bolton Gray heard this he crowed very loudly, like a
cock of spirit, and declared that old Mrs. Scratchard was envious,
because she had lost all her own tail-feathers, and looked more like a
worn- out old feather-duster than a respectable hen, and that therefore
she was filled with sheer envy of anybody that was young and pretty.
So young Mrs. Feathertop cackled gay defiance at