But now Boy Blue could not find her.

He had looked in the hen-house and all over the yard.

“Have you looked in the barn?” asked his mother.

“Oh, no!” said Boy Blue, “and I saw her coming out of the barn yesterday.”

“So did I,” said his mother.  “I think you will find her in the hay.”

Boy Blue climbed up on the hay.

There in a corner he found his Snowball.

When she saw her little friend, she began to scold.

“Why, Snowball, what are you doing here?” said Boy Blue.

“Cluck, cluck,” said Snowball.  “Do not come too near.”

[Illustration]

“I have some eggs in this nice warm nest.

“Soon I shall have some little chickens for you.

“Oh, oh!” cried Boy Blue, “I must tell Mamma.”

“You must feed Snowball,” said his mother.

“Give her some corn and a drink of water.”

Boy Blue took very good care of his pretty, white Snowball.

He gave her corn and fresh water every morning.

Three weeks seemed to him a long time to wait.

But Snowball did not seem to think so.

One morning Boy Blue went out to feed her, and she would not leave her nest.

“Cluck, cluck!” said she, “I can hear my little chickens.”

Boy Blue kept very still and listened.

“Peep, peep, peep,” he heard.

“Yes, Snowball,” he said, “I can hear your chickens, too.”

All day he was busy helping John build a chicken house.

They built the house in the field near the barn.

“I know Snowball will like this house,” said Boy Blue.

The next morning Snowball let him see her chickens.

“Cluck, clack, cluck!” she said.

“Oh, how pretty they are!” said Boy Blue.

“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

“You have seven dear little snowballs.”

Snowball was proud of her babies,

Boy Blue put them in his hat.

They were too little to walk.

“Come, Snowball,” he said, “I have a new house for you.”

“Cluck, cluck!  This is a good house,” she said.

Snowball and her seven little balls were very happy.

Boy Blue took good care of them, and they grew fast.

When the summer was over, he had eight big white snowballs.

FIRE-CRACKER

Fourth of July!  Fourth of July!

This is the best day for boys in all the year.

Boy Blue liked the Fourth of July.

He liked fire-crackers and torpedoes and fire-balloons.

He liked everything that made a noise.

This was the Fourth of July, but poor little Boy Blue had no fire-crackers.

He could not even blow his horn.

Little Sister was sick, and Mamma had said he must be very quiet.

It did not seem one bit like the Fourth of July.