"I guess I can remember the message if you can."

"It is about a hen and a rooster that Miss Betsy Porter wants him to call for to send down to our house--only mother wants our hen-house fixed first."

How bald it seemed put in this way! If only she could have seen old Michael himself, how differently she would have worded the message!

"It isn't very hard to remember that message, dearie," said Mrs.

Farrell, in her cooing voice.

Peggy hated to have her call her "dearie." Half the pleasure in her purchase would be gone if she could not see old Michael. Suddenly, she had a bright idea. She ran around the side of the house to the kitchen window and waved her hand to old Michael.

It was one of the warm days in late autumn, and she was still wearing one of her blue frocks. Her hair was flying about and she pushed it back. Old Michael loved children, and he never hesitated to come at their call. He hastily shoved a large piece of apple pie into his mouth, and, seizing a piece of cheese, he came out of the kitchen door. They were out of hearing of Mrs. Farrell--that unfortunate "Hattie," who was doomed always to live in New Hampshire, while her husband was free to travel into any State, beginning with M, where his imagination led him.

"Well, what is it now?" he asked.

"Oh, Mr. Farrell, the most wonderful thing has happened!" said Peggy; "I have bought such a lovely hen from Miss Betsy Porter, and she has given me a young rooster, and I am going to play they are people from the State of Rhode Island; and their names are Mr. Henry c.o.x and Mrs.

Henrietta c.o.x--only, of course, for most people, they are just a c.o.c.k and hen--just two Rhode Island Reds."

"I see," said old Michael. "But why are you telling me about it?"

"Miss Betsy said you could bring them to us this afternoon. She said you were working for her, but mother wanted the hen-house fixed up a little first. Can you do it to-morrow?"

"I see," said old Michael; "you want the apartment in the hotel made ready for Mr. and Mrs. c.o.x?"

"Oh, yes," Peggy said, laughing with delight; "I want everything done for the people who are renting my house."

"All right, Peggy, I'll look out for the comfort of your tenants."

"My tenants are not going to keep any maid, Mr. Farrell; I've got to give them most of their meals, although they will get some out, and I thought you'd advise me what food is cheapest and best."

They talked about the best food for Mr. and Mrs. c.o.x all the way to Peggy's house, where Mr. Farrell stopped to inspect the hen-house on his way to Miss Porter's.

"I always meant to keep hens sometime," Mrs. Owen confided to Mr.

Farrell, "but I did not mean to begin this winter."

"If you have them at all, you might as well have a few more," he said; "it is a little like summer boarders--the more you have, the more profit you get."

"I know," said Mrs. Owen, "but unfortunately, you have to begin by buying the hens."

CHAPTER XIII

MRS. OWEN'S SURPRISE PARTY

Mrs. Owen was to have a birthday, and Peggy and Alice felt something especial ought to be done to celebrate it. It was Miss Pauline Thornton who put the idea of a surprise party into Peggy's head. She came over one rainy evening to tell Mrs. Owen about a surprise party the Sewing Circle was to give to the minister's wife on her fiftieth birthday. Miss Pauline Thornton lived with her father in the large gray stone house behind the stone wall on which Peggy was fond of walking. She was a great friend of Mrs. Owens, who could never understand why the children did not like her, for she was tall and good-looking and always wore beautiful clothes. Older people found her very agreeable and efficient.

Mrs. Owen helped her off with her raincoat. Underneath it was a dress the color of violets.

If Miss Pauline had been the kind of person with whom one could play the geography game, Peggy thought what a good time they could have had living together in Pennsylvania. But as it was, she did not like to spend even a half-hour with her. Miss Pauline's big house seemed dreary to Peggy, with its high ceilings and stately furniture and pictures.

When she went there to call with her mother, she always hoped that she might see the collie dog and Miss Pauline's father. She liked old Mr.

Thornton. He had white hair and a kind face, and he looked as if he might like to play the geography game, if only his daughter was not there, but she always was there.

Mrs. Owen was reading aloud to the children when Miss Thornton came in.

"I didn't mean to interrupt; I thought the children were always in bed by this time," she said, glancing at the clock.

"It is their bedtime, but I was late in beginning to read to them to-night. You can finish the story to yourselves if you like."

"Aren't you going to shake hands with me, Peggy?" Miss Thornton asked.

Peggy slowly unlocked her arms, which she had folded behind her, and held out an unwilling hand.

"What is the story that is so interesting?" Miss Thornton asked, as she took the book out of Peggy's other hand.

"'Snow White and Rose Red,'" she said. "I never cared for fairy-tales when I was a child."

Peggy and Alice seated themselves in the same chair, with the book between them.

"You ought to come over nearer the light; you will strain your eyes,"

said Miss Thornton.

Mrs. Owen gave up her seat to the children and Miss Thornton began to talk about the surprise party.

Peggy soon found herself listening.

"It is to be in the afternoon--like an afternoon tea," she said.

"Are all the parish to be there--men as well as women?" asked Mrs. Owen.

"No, only the women. It is what Prissy Baker calls a 'hen-party.'"

Peggy could keep silent no longer. "Do you mean people are going to give her hens?" she asked.

"Hens? No; that is just an expression, Peggy; that means a party of ladies."

Peggy was silent. She might have known that they would not have thought of anything so interesting. The fact that they were to take the minister's wife ten five-dollar gold pieces, in a silk bag, was a poor subst.i.tute, indeed, for living, cackling, laying hens.

After the children went to bed, they could still hear Miss Pauline's voice going on and on.

"It's funny mother likes her so much," Peggy said. "If I ever grow up I shall have friends who like to do interesting things, and read fairy-stories, and talk on nice subjects, the way Miss Betsy Porter does. Oh, Alice," she said, shutting up her eyes and then opening them wide, "I am beginning to see things on the wall. Look and see what is coming."

Alice stared at the wall, in the darkness, but as usual, she could see nothing. "What do you see?" she asked.

"Hens!" Peggy exclaimed dramatically; "white ones, Rhode Island Reds, Plymouth Rocks, yellow ones--all kinds, a regular procession; and I see ladies, too, in bright dresses. They are all going to a hen party."

"I wish I could see them," said Alice. "Do you really see them, Peggy?"