She slipped into the chicken house and returned in a minute with a small basket of grain.  “Here, Mary Jane,” she said, “you hold this so—­and throw the grain out on the ground so—­” and she did just as she wanted Mary Jane to do, “and watch them come!”

Mary Jane reached her hand into the basket of grain, took out a handful and threw it far as she could; and then how she did laugh as she saw the chickens scramble for it!

“Can I do it again?” she asked delightedly.

“All you like till the grain is gone,” replied Grandmother.

“There now,” said Grandmother, after awhile, “we’ve stayed so long here it’s ’most dinner time.  Are you hungry, Mary Jane?”

Mary Jane started to say no, because she was sure the morning hadn’t more than begun, but to her surprise she found she was hungry, oh, awfully hungry.

“I thought so,” laughed Grandmother, who guessed what the little girl was thinking, “and it’s most eleven, so we’d better see what we’re going to have to eat.  How about chicken and biscuits and apple dumplings and cream?”

“They’re my favorites,” said Mary Jane, with a little skip of pleasure.  “Every one’s my favorite, all of ’em!”

So she and Grandmother put away the grain basket and went into the house.

THE HUNT FOR EGGS

“Now then,” said Grandmother when they got into the kitchen, “while I get dinner, we’ll talk.”

“But what’s the matter?” asked Mary Jane.

“Matter where?” questioned Grandmother.  “I don’t see anything the matter!”

“What’s the matter out there?” said Mary Jane, pointing out the door to the chicken yard where they had just been; “something’s happened.”

Grandmother stepped over to the door where Mary Jane was standing and looked out.  “Oh!” she exclaimed, for she saw in a minute what Mary Jane meant, “that noise?”

Mary Jane nodded.

“That noise means that an egg has been laid,” explained Grandmother, smiling, “and that Mrs. Hen is very proud of it and wants us to know what she has done.”

“Oh!” cried Mary Jane happily, “and then you go out and get them in a basket just like mother told me she used to do?  May I go now?”

“Better not start before dinner,” suggested Grandmother, “because sometimes egg-hunting takes quite a little time.  Wait till you get through dinner and then you may hunt all afternoon if you like—­egg-hunting is fun!”

So the minute she was through with her apple dumplings, Mary Jane asked, “And now, please, may I get the eggs?”

“Got you hunting eggs already?” asked Grandfather.  “Well, I wonder if you’ll like it as well as your mother used to.  Have you your basket?”

“Not yet,” said Grandmother.  “I mean to let her get it herself.  She’ll feel more at home when she begins to find her way around alone.  If you locked the pigs in, she can go anywhere she likes all alone.”