out his heels as he wildly
danced round to every point of the compass, in a circle. Gradually he
drew Mr. T---- and his chestnut a dozen yards away from the stable,
and it was just then that I perceived poor Kitty sitting close under a
tussock. It chanced to be the hour for the chickens' siesta, and they
were all folded away beneath her ample brooding wings. Perhaps the
danger had come too near to be avoided before I perceived it, but at
all events my loud shriek of warning was too late to save the pretty
crouching head from the flourish of the pack-horse's glancing heels.
Swift indeed was the blow; for scarcely ten seconds could have passed
between my first glimpse of poor Kitty's bright black eye looking out,
with such mortal terror in its expression, from beneath the yellow tuft
of grass, and my seeing the horse's heel lay her head right open. The
brave little mother never dreamed of saving herself at the cost of
her nestlings. She crouched as low as possible, and when the horse
had jumped over her I flew to see if she had escaped. No. There lay my
pretty pet, with her wings still outspread and her chickens unhurt. But
she seemed dead: her head had been actually cut clean open, and I never
expected that she would have lived a moment. Yet she did. I took her
at once to the well hard by, and bound up her split head with my pocket
handkerchief, keeping it well wetted with cold water. Later on I put
forth all the surgical art I possessed, and dressed the wound in the
most scientific manner, nursing poor Kitty tenderly in the kitchen, and
feeding her with my own hands every two hours. She was for a long
time incapable of feeding herself and; even when all danger was over,
required most careful nursing. However, the end of the story is that,
she recovered entirely her bodily health, but her poor little brain
remained clouded for ever. She never took any more notice of her
chickens, who had to be brought up by hand, and she never mixed again
with the society of the poultry-yard. At night she roosted apart in the
coalshed, and she never seemed to hear my voice or distinguish me from
others, though she was perfectly tame to everybody. Kitty's end was very
tragical. She grew exceedingly fat, and at last, one time when we were
all snowed up and could not afford to be sentimental, my cook laid hold
of poor Kitty, who was moping in her usual corner, and converted her
into a savoury stew without telling me, until I had actually din