April laughed. She parted the flowers, and there were two little new-born chicks, as yellow as the yolk of an egg. They were soft and downy; and their cunning black eyes and little beaks gave them a knowing look, which was astonishing, when you recollected how short a time they had been in the world. "Cheep! cheep!" they cried, and one ran directly into Thekla's outstretched hands. The warm fingers felt to it like a nest; and the little creature cuddled down contentedly, with a soft note which expressed comfort. The other, April handed to Max.
"They are for you," she said. "If you like them and take care of them, you may have a whole poultry-yard some day. My broods are not always lucky; but these will be."
"Like them," indeed! You should have seen the happy fuss which went on over the new pets. Max ran for a basket; Thekla brought flannel to line it, and meal and water; and the chicks were kissed, fed, and tucked away as if they had been babies. By and by they fell fast asleep under
