and saw that the houses were safely shut against the foxes every
evening. Norah's chief part in the management lay in looking after the
setting hens. At first she firmly checked the broody instincts by
shutting them callously under boxes despite pecks and loud protests.
Later, when their mood refused to change, she loved to prepare them soft
nests in boxes, and to imprison them there until they took kindly to
their seclusion. Then it was hard work to wait three weeks until the
first fluffy heads peeped out from the angry mother's wing, after which
Norah was a blissfully adoring caretaker until the downy balls began to
get ragged, as the first wing and tail feathers showed. Then the chicks
became uninteresting, and were handed over to Black Billy.

Besides her own pets there were Jim's.

"Mind, they're in your care," Jim had said sternly, on the evening
before his departure for school. They were making a tour of the
place--Jim outwardly very cheerful and unconcerned; Norah plunged in
woe. She did not attempt to conceal it. She had taken Jim's arm, and it
was sufficient proof of his state of mind that he did not shake it off.
Indeed, the indications were that he was glad of the loving little hand
tucked into the bend of his arm.

"Yes, Jim; I'll look after them."

"I don't want you to bother feeding them yourself," Jim said
magnanimously; "that 'ud be rather too much of a contract for a kid,
wouldn't it? Only keep an eye on 'em, and round up Billy if he doesn't
do his work. He's a terror if he shirks, and unless you watch him like a
cat he'll never change the water in the tins every morning. Lots of
times I've had to do it myself!"