began calling pitifully for some one to brush the down off his Sunday
trousers. The Gray Goose came good-naturedly to his assistance, but as
she brushed him all the wrong way, the children couldn't see that she
improved him very much. Squawker seemed quite pleased, however, and
turned himself round and round for their approval.

"What kind of birds are these new ones?" he asked the Lady Goose when
she had finished with him.

"Why just three more of us, Squawker, dear," she answered.

This remark made all three children open their eyes very wide.

"Nonsense," began Rudolf angrily, "_we_ aren't geese!"

From the other end of the room came the voice of the Gentleman Goose,
who spoke without turning round. "What makes you think that?" he
asked.

"Because we aren't--we--"

--"You're molting pretty badly, of course, now you mention it,"
interrupted the Lady Goose, "you and the little one. But this one's
feathers seem in nice condition." As she spoke she laid a long claw
lovingly on Ann's head. "How much would you say a pound, father?"

"Can't say till I get 'em in the scales, of course," and, smoothing
down his apron, the Gentleman Goose advanced toward Ann in a
businesslike fashion. The two little apprentices, carrying bags,
followed at his heels.