Brothers of Pity and Other Tales of Beasts and Men Part 16

"I do, though," said the chief hen. "I'm not one to put up with neglect.

Hi, there! are you asleep?" And scratching a bit of the rough bark off the walnut-tree, she let it drop on to Flaps' nose.

"I'm awake," said Flaps; "what's the matter?"

"I never knew any one snore when he was awake before," said the hen; and all the young c.o.c.kerels chuckled.

"Well, I believe I was napping," said Flaps. "Damp weather always makes me sleepy, and I was dreaming of the old farmyard."

"Poor old farm!" sighed Hen No. 2. "We had board and lodging there, at any rate."

"And now we've neither," said Hen No. 1. "Mr. Flaps, do you know that we're wet to the skin, and dying of starvation, whilst you put your nose into your great-coat pocket and go to sleep?"

"You're right," said Flaps. "Something must be done this evening. But I see no use in taking the whole community about in the rain. We will send out another expedition."

"c.o.c.k-a-doodle-doo!" screamed the three wise ones; "that means that we're to face the storm whilst you have another nap, eh?"

"It seems an odd thing," said the chief c.o.c.k, scratching his comb with his claw, "that Flaps never thinks of going himself on these expeditions."

"You're right," said Flaps. "It is an odd thing, for times out of mind I've heard our old friend, the farmer, say, 'If you want a thing done--Go; if not--Send.' This time I shall go. Cuddle close to each other, and keep up your spirits. I'll find us a good home yet."

The fowls were much affected by Flaps' magnanimity, and with one voice they cried: "Thank you, dear Flaps. Whatever you decide upon will do for us."

And Mark added, "I will continue to act as watchman." And he went up to the top of the tree as Flaps trotted off down the muddy road.

All that evening and far into the night it rained and rained, and the fowls cuddled close to each other to keep warm, and Flaps did not return. In the small hours of the morning the rain ceased, and the rain-clouds drifted away, and the night-sky faded and faded till it was dawn.

"c.o.c.k-a-doodle-doo!" said Mark, and all the fowls woke up.

"What do you see and hear from the tree-top, dear Mark?" said they. "Is Flaps coming?"

"Not a thing can I see From the top of the tree, But a long, winding lane That is sloppy with rain;"

replied Mark. And the fowls huddled together again, and put their heads back under their wings.

Paler and paler grew the grey sky, and at last it was broken with golden bars, and at the first red streak that caught fire behind them, Mark crowed louder than before, and all the hens of Hencastle roused up for good.

"What do you see and hear from the tree-top, dear Mark?" they inquired.

"Is Flaps coming?"

"Not a sound do I hear, And I very much fear That Flaps, out of spite, Has deserted us quite;"

replied Mark. And the fowls said nothing, for they were by no means at ease in their consciences.

Their delight was proportionably great when, a few minutes later, the sentinel sang out from his post,

"Here comes Flaps, like the mail!

And he's waving his tail."

"Well, dear, dear Flaps!" they all cackled as he came trotting up, "where is our new home, and what is it like?"

"Will there be plenty to eat?" asked the c.o.c.ks with one crow.

"Plenty," replied Flaps.

"Shall we be safe from mice, owls, wild beasts, and wild men?" cried the hens.

"You will," answered Flaps.

"Is it far, dear Flaps?"

"It is very near," said Flaps; "but I may as well tell you the truth at once--it's a farmyard."

"Oh!--" said all the fowls.

"We may be roasted, or have our heads chopped off," whimpered the young c.o.c.kerels.

"Well, Scratchfoot was roasted at Hencastle," said Flaps; "and he wasn't our only loss. One can't have everything in this world; and I a.s.sure you, if you could see the poultry-yard--so dry under foot, nicely wired in from marauders; the most charming nests, with fresh hay in them; drinking-troughs; and then at regular intervals, such abundance of corn, mashed potatoes, and bones, that my own mouth watered at--are served out--"

"That sounds good," said the young c.o.c.kerels.

"Ahem! ahem!" said the chief c.o.c.k. "Did you see anything very remarkable--were the specimens of my race much superior in strength and good looks?----"

"My dear c.o.c.k!" said Flaps; "there's not a tail or a comb or a hackle to touch you. You'll be c.o.c.k of the walk in no time."

"Ahem! ahem!" said the chief c.o.c.k modestly. "I have always had a sort of fatality that way. Pray, my dears, don't look so foolish and deplorable, but get the young people together, and let us make a start. Mr. Flaps is a person of strong common sense, a quality for which I myself have always been remarkable, and I thoroughly endorse and support his excellent advice, of which I am the best judge. I have very much regretted of late to observe a tendency in this family (I say a tendency, for I hope it goes no further) to undervalue Mr. Flaps, and even (I hardly like to allude to such reprehensible and disgusting absurdity) to recall the memory of a vulgar red-haired impostor, who gained a brief entrance into our family circle. I am not consulted as I should be in these fluctuations of opinion, but there are occasions when it is necessary that the head of a family should exercise his discretion and his authority, and, so to speak, put down his claw. I put down my claw. We are going to Mr. Flaps' farmyard. c.o.c.k-a-doodle-doo c.o.c.k-a-doodle-doo!"

Now, when the head of a family says "c.o.c.k-a-doodle-doo!" there is nothing more to be said. So to the farmyard the whole lot of them went, and were there before the sun got one golden hair of his head over the roof of the big barn.

And only Mark, as they all crowded into their new home, turned his head round over his back to say: "And you, Flaps; what shall you do?"

"Oh, I shall be all right," said Flaps. "Good-bye and good luck to you."

It cannot be said that Flaps was positively in high spirits when he had settled his proteges in their new home in the farmyard, and was left alone; but there are some good folk who contrive to make duty do the work of pleasure in this life, and then a piece of business fairly finished is as good as a treat.

It is not bread and bones, however, and Flaps was very hungry--so hungry that he could not resist the temptation to make his way towards the farmhouse, on the chance of picking up some sc.r.a.ps outside. And that was how it came about, that when the farmer's little daughter Daisy, with a face like the rosy side of a white-heart cherry set deep in a lilac print hood, came back from going with the dairy la.s.s to fetch up the cows, she found Flaps snuffing at the back door, and she put her arms round his neck (they reached right round with a little squeezing) and said:

"Oh, I never knew you'd be here so early! You nice thing!"

And Flaps' nose went right into the print hood, and he put out his tongue and licked Daisy's face from the point of her chin up her right cheek to her forehead, and then from her forehead down her left cheek back to her chin, and he found that she was a very nice thing too.

But the dairymaid screamed, "Good gracious! where did that nasty strange dog come from? Leave him alone, Miss Daisy, or he'll bite your nose off."

"He won't!" said Daisy indignantly. "He's the dog Daddy promised me;"

and the farmer coming out at that minute, she ran up to him crying, "Daddy! Isn't this my dog?"

"Bless the child, no!" said the farmer; "it's a nice little pup I'm going to give thee. Where did that dirty old brute come from?"

"He would wash," said little Daisy, holding very fast to Flaps' coat.