“Well, it’s pretty little to run away,” said Grandfather, “but you never can tell, so I lock it to be sure.”  He took hold of Mary Jane’s hand again as he added, “now just behind these trees; and around these bushes; and—­”

“I see it myself,” exclaimed Mary Jane, “and I know what it is—­it’s a little sheep!” She dropped his hand and ran a few steps toward the lamb she saw grazing a few steps away.  But just as she drew near, the lamb spied her and started to meet her.  Mary Jane ran quickly back toward her grandfather; it was one thing to go to meet the lamb herself and quite another to have the lamb come and meet her!  “Will he grunt?” she asked.

“Not a single grunt!” laughed Grandfather.  “He’s the friendliest little creature you ever saw.  See?” Grandfather took Mary Jane’s hand and laid it on the soft wool of the lamb’s back.  “He likes you already and he’ll like you even better when you bring him something good to eat.  Before very long you will learn to climb this fence all by yourself; then you can come over here and play with him any time you want to.”

“And pick flowers for my grandmother, too?” asked Mary Jane as she looked at the lovely bluebells that grew around where they were standing.

“You’re a girl after your grandmother’s own heart!” exclaimed Grandfather delightedly; “you can pick all the flowers you like.  But let’s not stop now.  Don’t you want to see more of the farm?”

Mary Jane did, so they left the lamb with a promise to come again later and went back across the road to the house.  There they met Grandmother who declared that she was through with the telephone long ago and wanted to show Mary Jane the chickens herself.

“Very well,” said Grandfather; “but don’t you show her the garden.”

“I won’t,” replied Grandmother, and they both looked so mysterious that Mary Jane was sure some surprise was in that garden.

“Are you going to show it to me?” she asked her grandfather.

“Some day,” he replied, “but there’s too much else to see this morning.  The garden can wait.”

So Mary Jane and her grandmother went to the chicken yard and Grandfather started for the barn to finish his work.

If you’ve ever seen about a hundred cunning, little, yellow and white and gray chickens, so soft and fluffy they look as though they were Easter trimmings; and dozens of motherly looking hens ambling around and a few big, important-looking roosters crowing in the sunshine, you know just what Mary Jane saw when they reached the chicken yard.  For her part, Mary Jane had never seen such a sight before, and she was so surprised and pleased she could hardly believe her eyes.

“Are they all yours, Grandmother?” she asked in amazement.

“I should say they are,” laughed Grandmother.  “You stand right here—­no, that rooster won’t come any closer,” she added as one big fellow crowed loudly near by.  “You stay here till I get some feed and you shall see a funny sight.”