The morning routine is this: after milking, I stop at the chicken pen to fill a bowl of milk for the little girls, then head for the house with Bess and the cats following, so I didn't think a thing about it when I heard the pitter-patter of little feet yesterday. Carrying the two milk pails, I opened the screen door and headed into the kitchen. And then I heard, "Brrrk, brrrk," in the dining room. I saw Pearl, I saw Bessie Anne, and that sure wasn't Frank.
It seems I'm destined to have a chicken in the house. I will say that, before being ushered out, this little girl was very well behaved and there were no sploops left as a calling card.