The Tale of Henrietta Hen Part 8

"If you had answered me when I spoke to you I wouldn't have left my perch in the dark," she told the Rooster severely. "When I moved to your perch to see what was the matter I blundered into you. And then you thought I was a skunk! You owe me an apology, sir!"

The Rooster was glad it was not lighter in the henhouse, for he felt himself flushing hotly.

"You must pardon me," he said. "I had no idea it was you, for you waked me out of a sound sleep."

"Sound sleep, indeed!" Henrietta Hen exclaimed with a sniff. "Why, you had been crowing only a few moments before. In fact it was your crowing that roused me."

"No doubt!" said the Rooster. "But you see, I fell asleep again immediately."

"Then you must be ill," Henrietta retorted, "for I've never known you to go to sleep again, once you've begun your morning's crowing."

"But it's not morning now," the Rooster informed her. "It's not even late at night--certainly not an hour since sunset."

Henrietta Hen was astonished.

"I noticed that the night seemed short," she muttered.

The Rooster thought it a great joke.

"Ha! ha!" he laughed. And he said to the rest of the flock, with a chuckle, "Henrietta thought it was morning! No doubt she'd have gone out into the yard if the door hadn't been shut." And the other hens all t.i.ttered. They always did, if the rooster expected them to.

Well, if there was one thing that Henrietta Hen couldn't endure, it was to be laughed at.

"Don't be silly!" she cried. "Why shouldn't I think it was morning, when he crowed almost in my ear?"

"Don't you know why I crowed?" the Rooster asked her. And without waiting for any reply, he said, "I crowed to let Farmer Green know it was going to rain to-morrow."

Of course Henrietta Hen had to have the last word. The Rooster might have known she would.

"Then," she observed, "I suppose you squawked to let him know there was a skunk in the henhouse."

XVIII

IN NEED OF ADVICE

Something was troubling Henrietta Hen. She seemed to have some secret sorrow. No longer did she move with her well-known queenly manner among her neighbors in the farmyard. Instead, she spent a good deal of her time moping. And no one could guess the reason. She didn't even care to talk to anybody--not even to boast about her fine, speckled coat. And that certainly was not in the least like Henrietta Hen.

Always, before, Henrietta had seized every chance to parade before the public. Now she seemed to crave privacy.

What was the matter? To tell the truth, Henrietta Hen herself did not know the answer to that question. That is to say, she did not know _why_ a certain thing was so. She only knew that a great misfortune had befallen her. And she dreaded to tell anybody about it.

To be sure, there was old Whitey--a hen who had lived on the farm longer than any other. Most members of the flock often asked her advice. Even Henrietta herself had done that. But this difficulty was something she didn't want to mention to a neighbor. If there were only somebody outside the flock to whom she could go for help! But she knew of no one.

Then Henrietta happened to hear of Aunt Polly Woodchuck. The Muley Cow, who went to the pasture every day, mentioned Aunt Polly's name to Henrietta. According to the Muley Cow, Aunt Polly Woodchuck was an herb doctor--and a good one, too. No matter what might be troubling a person, Aunt Polly was sure to have something right in her basket to cure it.

"I'd like to see her," Henrietta Hen had said. "But I can't go way up in the pasture, under the hill."

"Could you go to the end of the lane?" the Muley Cow inquired.

"Yes!"

"Then I'll ask Aunt Polly Woodchuck to meet you by the bars to-morrow morning," the Muley Cow promised.

That suited Henrietta Hen.

"I'll be there--if it doesn't rain," she agreed.

Early the next day she followed the cows through the lane. And she hadn't waited long at the bars when Aunt Polly Woodchuck came hobbling up to her. Being a very old lady, Aunt Polly was somewhat lame. But she was spry, for all that. And her eyes were as bright as b.u.t.tons.

Henrietta Hen saw at once that Aunt Polly was hopelessly old-fashioned.

She carried a basket on her arm, and a stick in her hand.

"Well, well, dearie! Here you are!" cried Aunt Polly Woodchuck. "The Muley Cow tells me you're feeling poorly. Do tell me all about yourself!

No doubt I've something in my basket that will do you a world of good."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Don't Worry!" Said Aunt Polly Woodchuck. (_Page 91_)]

XIX

AUNT POLLY HELPS

Somehow Henrietta Hen couldn't help liking Aunt Polly Woodchuck, in spite of her old-fashioned appearance. She certainly had a way with her--a way that made a person _want_ to tell her his troubles.

"I don't know whether you can help me or not," said Henrietta Hen. "Have you any feathers in your basket?"

"No--no! No feathers!" Aunt Polly replied. "I use herbs in my business of doctoring. But I've heard that a burnt feather held under a body's nose will do wonders sometimes.... I must always carry a feather in my basket, hereafter."

"_One_ feather wouldn't do me any good," said Henrietta Hen with a doleful sigh. "I need a great many more than one."

"You do?" Aunt Polly cried.

"Yes!" Henrietta answered. "Half my feathers have dropped off me. And that's why I've come to ask your advice. I'm fast losing my fatal beauty."

Henrietta Hen's voice trembled as she told Aunt Polly Woodchuck the dreadful news. "I don't believe you'll be able to help me," she quavered.

"I'll soon look like a perfect fright. Besides, winter's coming; and how I'll ever keep warm with no feathers is more than I know."

Henrietta Hen couldn't understand how Aunt Polly managed to stay so calm.

Henrietta had expected her to throw up her hands and say something like "Sakes alive!" or "Mercy on us!" But the old lady did nothing of the sort.

She set her basket down on the ground; and pushing her spectacles forward to the end of her nose, she leaned over and looked closely at Henrietta Hen. Aunt Polly's gaze travelled over Henrietta from head to foot and then back again. And she took hold of one of Henrietta's feathers and gave it a gentle twitch.