Now, as Aunt Judith busied herself about the cottage, or out in the tiny
garden, she realized how much the child's hands had helped.

"She used to dust for me," she would say to herself, as she moved about
the tiny sitting room, putting it in order.

"She always fed the chickens," she murmured, one morning, on her way out
to the coop.

She stooped to open the door, when a shrill voice shouted at her.

"Look out! Look out! The ol' rooster's mad!"

Aunt Judith was startled, and Gyp was delighted.

"Why were you meddling with the hens?" she asked, in quick wrath.

"Don't hurt 'em to be watched, does it?" was the saucy answer.

Aunt Judith looked at the imp-like figure astride the fence.

"You're a nuisance!" she cried, "I wish the town was rid of you!" "Ding-
te-ding-te-dingle-te-ding!" sang Gyp, in an almost ear-splitting solo.

"Ding-te-ding--I tell ye what, if ye put jest the tip of yer finger
between them slats, that 'ere ol' rooster 'll bite it almost off'n yer!"
he remarked, "I know, 'cause I TRIED it."

"You keep your fingers away from the coop, and yourself out of my yard,"
cried Aunt Judith, "or I'll have you arrested."