| 52 | 53 | 54 | 55 | 56 |
| 1 | 90 | 179 | 269 | 358 |
|
rushed out of the door at once. Almost simultaneously Mr. Skelmersdale
himself appeared down the village, gripping a watering-pot by the spout,
and very white in the face. And, of course, in a moment or so every one
in the village was rushing to the door or window.
The spectacle of Miss Durgan all across the road, with the entire day's
correspondence of Hickleybrow in her hand, gave pause to the pullet in
possession of Master Skelmersdale. She halted through one instant's
indecision and then turned for the open gates of Fulcher's yard. That
instant was fatal. The second pullet ran in neatly, got possession of
the child by a well-directed peck, and went over the wall into the
vicarage garden.
"
Charawk, chawk, chawk, chawk, chawk, chawk!" shrieked the hindmost hen,
hit smartly by the watering-can Mr. Skelmersdale had thrown, and
fluttered wildly over Mrs. Glue's cottage and so into the doctor's
field, while the rest of those Gargantuan birds pursued the pullet, in
possession of the child across the vicarage lawn.
"
Good heavens!" cried the Curate, or (as some say) something much more
manly, and ran, whirling his croquet mallet and shouting, to head off
the chase.
"Stop, you wretch!" cried the curate, as though giant hens were the
commonest facts in life.
5
4
Page
Quick Jump
|