were the matter.

Mother Etienne, busy giving green apples to the pigs, bran to the
rabbits, and corn to the pigeons, came back presently, and could
not see the big Yollande beside the pond, only her children
floating far, far away on the water. Surprised she drew nearer,
called, but in vain. The mother-hen had disappeared. Then only did
she understand the tragedy that had occurred. She called for help.
Petit-Jacques immediately opened the big sluice and the water ran
out, but much too slowly for their impatience. At last they began
to see the bottom, and soon the body of poor Yollande was
discovered stiff and motionless.

There was general consternation at the farm. Petit-Jacques, by
means of a long pole, seized her and drew her to land at Mother
Etienne's feet. Labrie came up and sniffed sadly at the body of
the unhappy hen. In vain they dried her and rubbed her,--nothing
did any good.

"She's quite dead, alas," said Mother Etienne with tears in her
eyes, "but it was my own fault. I ought to have closed down the
lattice and this misfortune would not have happened. It really is
a great pity--such a fine hen. She weighs at least eight pounds.
There, Germaine, take her and weigh her."

Germaine was the maid and also the cousin of Petit-Jacques--of
whom she was very fond. She was a fine buxom girl of eighteen,
strong and well-grown. She loved animals, too, but her feeling for
them could not be compared to Mother Etienne's.