es'm," replied Clematis. "Would you like me to help you?"

"No, you had better run out and see what Mr. Alder is doing. You can
help me after breakfast."

So Clematis ran out.

How loud the birds sounded in the clear air. How they chirped and
twittered. How sweet the smell of the flowers, and how bright the
sun.

"Oh, there's the little red hen!" she cried. "But she has lost her
chickens. Every one is gone."

There was the little hen, sitting on the ground, near the barn
door.

Just then Mr. Alder came out with a pail of milk.

"Oh, Mr. Alder, where have all the chickens gone?" cried Clematis.

He laughed. "Dear me," he said. "I don't see them anywhere, do
you?"

"No, but they were all here last night."

"I wonder if the rats caught them." Mr. Alder looked very sad.

"Oh, dear, if they did, I'll tell Deborah."

Clematis looked as if she were ready to cry.

"Don't cry. I'll get a fairy to bring them back. You turn around and
shut your eyes."

He turned her around. "Now, are your eyes shut?"

"Yes."

"Now you must say, 'Fairy, Fairy, bring back my chicks.'"

"Fairy, Fairy, bring back my chicks," said Clematis, laughing.

She heard the little red hen clucking behind her. Then she heard the
chickens peeping.

"Turn round," said Mr. Alder.

She opened her eyes; she turned around; and there were the chicks,
running about their mother.

She was just going to cry out in surprise, when the hen lifted her
wings, and two more ran out from beneath them.

"Oh, I know. She had them under her feathers all the time."

Clematis laughed and danced about, while the red hen clucked to her
chicks and walked off very angry indeed.

Mr. Alder laughed also, and picked up the pail.

"Do you see that patch of raspberries down there, just beyond the
hen house?" he asked.

Clematis nodded.

"I think there are some big, late raspberries down there. Would you
like to pick a few? You'll find them good."

"For me to eat?"

"Yes, eat all you can find. They are good for little city girls."

"Oh, thank you." Clematis started toward the patch of raspberries.

Then she stopped.

"I must see Deborah first," she said. "I wonder if she caught any
rats."

"To be sure, I forgot Deborah. Give her my love."

Mr. Alder went to separate his milk, while Clematis found Deborah
sound asleep on the hay, and ready to visit the raspberry patch.

Soon the bell for breakfast rang, and Clematis ran to the house. Her
lips and