Wun Sing protested; but when they were determined, he tremblingly
presented each of the youngsters with a bit of red paper, inscribed in
black with a few Chinese characters. Laughingly, they pinned these on
and so protected from "evil chalms" sought the little wire enclosure
which the Chinaman had made for his petted fowl, upon his first coming
to San Leon.

The hen had been the gift of his opulent kinsman, Der Doo, and was far
too precious to its new owner to be allowed with the other poultry. It
had lived in state within its little wire-covered yard, supplied with
fresh grass each day and fattening upon the best of food. For its night
accommodation, Wun Sing had constructed a tiny pagoda-like house
imitating a temple of his native land. Here the pampered fowl slept
luxuriously, and for a time had been the delight of its owner's eyes.

"Let's sit down on the grass and watch it awhile. We can eat our
crackers here, first rate, 'cause if we get thirsty we can drink out of
the spigot o' running water that cooky has fixed for the hen," suggested
Alfy.

So they ranged themselves in a semi-circle, with the crackers and cheese
in the centre and awaited developments.

"Cock-a-doodle-doo!" crowed Herbert, in excellent imitation of a
rooster.

"Oh! hush! Hens don't do _that_; they just
say--cut-cut-cut-cut--cut-tarket!" corrected Molly.

Immediately the rest took up the mocking cries, to the evident distress
of poor Wun Sing, who stood in the background, his face yellower than
common and his hands clasping and unclasping nervously.

But neither cat-calls, crowings, nor cacklings, coaxed the invisible
fowl from her palace-like retreat. So, soon tiring of this, they fell to
talking of other things and forgot the creature; till, suddenly, from
within the temple came a crow that beat even Herbert's noisy ones. It
was so loud and so sudden, and was so closely followed by a jubilant
cackle, that all of them were a trifle startled while Wun Sing threw
himself down in real terror.

The cackling continued a longer time than is usual and ended in another
masculine crow. Then there solemnly stalked into the little yard a very
handsome fowl, of the Plymouth Rock species, who strutted about as if
she were the queen of all hens.

"Huh! Nothing the matter with that biddy, Wun Sing! I wish 't Ma Babcock
had her in our hennery, up-mounting. What's wrong with her, you think,
Wunny?"

"Missee Alfletta--_eggs_!"

"Well, what's a hen