ired for a time yet a little covering, but this grew
gradually less and less.

Naturally the phenomenon was much discussed in the neighbourhood,
and it attracted many and delightful visitors to the farm, all of
whom Mother Etienne welcomed cordially. Yollande was less pleased
with this desire to inspect her. Generally some unbeliever would
tug at her hair, a painful experience for her. So, except towards
her mistress and Germaine, she had become exceedingly vindictive
and watchful. Every time she had the chance she pecked with her
short, stout beak at the person indiscreet enough to take such
liberties. One little visitor, more daring than the rest, nearly
lost his finger over it.

The fame of the curly-haired hen was tremendous, it spread even
beyond the limits of the district. It was really worth a journey
to see her. They wrote of it in the newspapers. The "Daily
Mirror," I think it was, had a fine long article about her.

But in certain quarters, the whole thing was looked upon as a
"fish story."

CHAPTER V

SIR BOOUM CALLS UPON MOTHER ETIENNE

Just about this time placards were posted about the whole village,
announcing the arrival of a Great American Circus, bringing in its
train the most wonderful spectacles. Menageries,--curiosities of
all kinds, such as had not been seen since the time of the
Caesars.

Incredible things were on show. Nobody, however small their purse,
could resist the pleasure of witnessing these sights. Nobody, that
is, except the people in and around this village.

The menagerie prepared for its performance by splendid
processions. Caparisoned in gold the elephants marched around.
There were horses of all colours and of all sizes, dromedaries,
rhinoceroses, black men and white monkeys, bands of musicians,
fairy chariots.

The inhabitants saw the gorgeous procession pass with
indifference, with a superior kind of air and without the least
enthusiasm.

On the evening of the first performance, in spite of the placards,
processions, bands, notices, and illuminations, nobody appeared at
the ticket-office of the theatre and they played to an empty
house.

"What," cried the impresario, tearing his hair. "Crowds flocked to
me in London, Paris, St. Petersburg, and New York. I have been
congratulated by the Shah of Persia, invited to lunch by the Grand
Turk, and this little hole despises me, mocks at me, considers me
a failure."

The lights out, Sir Booum spent a terrible