quick
eyes, and yellow feet and bills. If a hawk flew in the air and the
mother gave a cry, the little ones knew exactly what it meant, and ran
under the protecting wings of the mother from the hawk, although they
had never seen one--had never studied in natural history the danger of
the enemy. If danger were near, she called, and immediately they were
under her wings. The whole brood now stopped under the lindens. The
little ones rested comfortably near the warm body of the mother. Now
here, now there, their little heads would pop out between the feathers.
One smart little chirper, whose ambition indicated that he would be the
future cock of the walk, undertook to stand on the back of the hen and
pick the heads of the others as they appeared through the feathers.

Angela came under the lindens, carrying a vessel of water and some
crumbs in her apron for the little ones. She strewed the crumbs on the
ground, and the old hen announced dinner. The little ones set to work
very awkwardly. The old hen had to break the crumbs smaller between her
bill. Angela took one of the chickens in her hand and fondled it, and
carried it into the house. The hen went to the vessel to drink and the
whole brood followed. It happened that the one that stood on her back
fell into the water, and cried loudly; for it found that it had got
into a strange element of which it had no more idea than Vogt and
Buechner of the form of a spirit. At this critical moment Frank came
through the yard. He saw it fluttering about in the water, and stopped.
The old hen went clucking anxiously about the vessel. And although she
could without difficulty have taken the chicken out with her bill, yet
she did not do it. Richard observed this with great interest; but
showed no desire to save the little creature, which at the last gasp
floated like a bunch of cotton on the water.

Angela may have heard the noise of the hen, for she appeared at the
door. She saw Frank standing near the lindens looking into the vessel.
At the same time she noticed the danger of one of her little darlings,
and hastened out. She took the body from the water and held it sadly in
her hands.

"It is dead, the little dear," said she sadly. "You could have saved
it, Herr Frank, and you did not do it." She looked at Frank, and forgot
immediately, on seeing him, the object of her regrets. The young man
stood before her so dejected, so depressed and sad, that it touched her
heart. She knew wh