The Curly-Haired Hen | Page 6

one evening, Mother Etienne being in a particularly good
humour, the young girl took courage and told her all about it. Far from
scolding her, her mistress was delighted, and so pleased at the news
that she there and then undressed Yollande and rubbed her from head to
foot with Father Gusson's marvellous ointment. She did the thing
thoroughly--rubbing it into every pore. Then they made a good fire so
that the poor little model, thus exposed, should not take cold.
After that they watched her every instant; they were for ever undressing
her to see if the cure was working--they could hardly bear to wait. Just
think--if it were to succeed. It would be the end and aim of all their care.
Yollande could once again take her proper place in the world.
At last what had happened to the head, happened to the body too.
Before a week had gone by a thick down completely covered the big
hen. The good women, much wondering, imagined that as it grew
stronger the hair would change into feathers. Anxiously they awaited
the change. Nothing of the sort happened. The hair remained hair--red,
Titian red--fine and soft, curling round your fingers, admirable in
quality and colour.
The hair on the head, older than that on the rest of the body, was much
longer, which suggested to the mischievous Germaine the idea of
making her an elaborate headdress.

Nothing like it had ever been seen before.
Soon Yollande was able to discard some of her clothes. Her breast and
back required for a time yet a little covering, but this grew gradually
less and less.
Naturally the phenomenon was much discussed in the neighbourhood,
and it attracted many and delightful visitors to the farm, all of whom
Mother Etienne welcomed cordially. Yollande was less pleased with
this desire to inspect her. Generally some unbeliever would tug at her
hair, a painful experience for her. So, except towards her mistress and
Germaine, she had become exceedingly vindictive and watchful. Every
time she had the chance she pecked with her short, stout beak at the
person indiscreet enough to take such liberties. One little visitor, more
daring than the rest, nearly lost his finger over it.
The fame of the curly-haired hen was tremendous, it spread even
beyond the limits of the district. It was really worth a journey to see her.
They wrote of it in the newspapers. The "Daily Mirror," I think it was,
had a fine long article about her.
But in certain quarters, the whole thing was looked upon as a "fish
story."
CHAPTER V
SIR BOOUM CALLS UPON MOTHER ETIENNE
Just about this time placards were posted about the whole village,
announcing the arrival of a Great American Circus, bringing in its train
the most wonderful spectacles. Menageries,--curiosities of all kinds,
such as had not been seen since the time of the Caesars.
Incredible things were on show. Nobody, however small their purse,
could resist the pleasure of witnessing these sights. Nobody, that is,
except the people in and around this village.
The menagerie prepared for its performance by splendid processions.

Caparisoned in gold the elephants marched around. There were horses
of all colours and of all sizes, dromedaries, rhinoceroses, black men
and white monkeys, bands of musicians, fairy chariots.
The inhabitants saw the gorgeous procession pass with indifference,
with a superior kind of air and without the least enthusiasm.
On the evening of the first performance, in spite of the placards,
processions, bands, notices, and illuminations, nobody appeared at the
ticket-office of the theatre and they played to an empty house.
"What," cried the impresario, tearing his hair. "Crowds flocked to me in
London, Paris, St. Petersburg, and New York. I have been
congratulated by the Shah of Persia, invited to lunch by the Grand Turk,
and this little hole despises me, mocks at me, considers me a failure."
The lights out, Sir Booum spent a terrible night, wondering what evil
genius could thus attack his laurels. At dawn, worn out by his sleepless
night, he set out, eager to learn the cause of his failure.
All those whom he met winked knowingly, laughing in their sleeves,
and courtesied to him without giving him any information. At last one,
touched by his despair, answered:
"Why should we come to you? We have here in this very place, where
we can see it for nothing, a marvel beside which yours are
commonplace. Have you in your menagerie a curly-haired hen?"
"A curly-haired hen!" cried Sir Booum. "Gracious, goodness me! What
are you talking about? Three times have I been round the world and
have never heard of such a thing."
"Go to the big farm down yonder and you can see the one I am telling
you about. You will be