It was nearly one boy’s work, for instance, to take care of the Guinea fowls,—­the handsome, mottled hens, that never knew when they were well off, but were always running away and getting lost.  If it had not been for their shrill, silly cackle, their hiding-places would never have been found.  Master Sunshine pursued them every time they strayed, and brought them home triumphantly.  I think he loved his sturdy family of Cochin Chinas best; for the great rooster, with his well-feathered legs and scarlet comb, always seemed to recognize him as a friend, and the plump hens laid the most delicious eggs, the exact hue of their own buff plumage.  It was never any trouble to feed and water them, or to let them out of the hen-yard for a short run.

Every one knew that the Wanderer and his Wife were Master Sunshine’s property.  The Wanderer was a great white gander, with a long neck and a still longer tongue, if one could measure it by the clatter it made in the world.  His Wife was a patient gray goose, who waddled after him unceasingly, and was always ready to add her shrill voice to his.

It troubled their young owner not a little that the Wanderer had to wear a great yoke of light wood about his neck; but after the bird had twice run away and trampled the gardens of their neighbors, he could see that it was necessary.

Almira Jane put the matter very clearly before him.  “I don’t think he does like his collar much, and it ain’t really ornamental,” said she; “but it is kinder to the neighbors to have him wear a yoke so that he cannot squeeze between the pickets in the fences to destroy the gardens.”

“But the goose may do the same mischief,” interrupted Master Sunshine anxiously.

Almira Jane shook her head wisely.

“The poor silly thing will never think of it by herself,” she answered.  “All she does is to follow her mate; and if we keep him out of trouble, she will be all right, I promise you.”

It always made Almira Jane laugh when she thought of the day when Master Sunshine brought the Wanderers home.  Master Sunshine had gone to old Mrs. Sorefoot, who lived down the road, to get a setting of Leghorn eggs.  The old lady, whose life was being made miserable by the clamor of the pair of geese which a grandchild had brought her the week before as a particularly choice gift, told Master Sunshine that, if he would but take them away, they should be his property.

The little fellow was more delighted than I can tell you.  He had always wanted to own geese, and this was such a good chance.  And he made up his mind on the instant that as soon as he got them home, he would remove the queer-looking collar from the gander’s neck.

Then he set out for home, oh, so proudly!

On one arm he carried carefully the basket of eggs; under the other was the gray goose, with her legs securely tied.  Behind him, led, or rather dragged, by a stout cord passed through the opening in the yoke, came the white gander, who was quite able by spreading his powerful wings to contest every step of the way.  Poor Master Sunshine!  What a time he did have, and how very hot and excited he was before he reached home!