"When you go to set the hen, Donald," said Uncle Robert, "I will go with
you. Then you can show me everything about the barn."

Donald went to the storeroom and soon came back with the eggs.

"There are thirteen," he said, as he joined Uncle Robert in the porch,
"but I think she can take care of them. She's one of the largest hens
we have."

Then together they went to the henhouse, which stood next to the barn.
The chickens, seeing the basket in Donald's hand, ran toward him.

"You needn't think I am going to feed you again so soon," he said. "You
have had one breakfast this morning."

Donald always talked to all the animals as though they could understand
him.

[Illustration: The poultry yard.]

The mother hens paid no attention. With quiet dignity they walked about,
their broods of fluffy little chicks looking like balls of gold in the
sunshine. With a "Cluck! cluck!" each anxious mother called her children
to her as her sharp eyes discovered some new dainty. Then the greedy
little yellow things ran as fast as their short legs could carry them to
be the first to take the good things from the self-sacrificing mother.

"How many little chickens are there?" asked Uncle Robert as they stopped
to watch them.