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Page 16
Aunt Judith was startled, and Gyp was delighted.
"Why were you meddling with the hens?" she asked, in quick wrath.
"Don't hurt 'em to be watched, does it?" was the saucy answer.
Aunt Judith looked at the imp-like figure astride the fence.
"You're a nuisance!" she cried, "I wish the town was rid of you!" "Ding-
te-ding-te-dingle-te-ding!" sang Gyp, in an almost ear-splitting solo.
"Ding-te-ding--I tell ye what, if ye put jest the tip of yer finger
between them slats, that 'ere ol' rooster 'll bite it almost off'n yer!"
he remarked, "I know, 'cause I TRIED it."
"You keep your fingers away from the coop, and yourself out of my yard,"
cried Aunt Judith, "or I'll have you arrested."
"Wow!" shrieked Gyp, and slipping from the fence, he ran to the woods,
lest Aunt Judith should immediately put her threat into effect.
The one, and only thing that Gyp feared was a policeman.
A wild little ragamuffin, living in an old hut that was home only in
name, with parents as ignorant as himself, he was viewed with contempt
by every child in the town, and feared by them, as well.
There was nothing that he dared not do--if no policeman were in sight.
It was well known by everyone that when Gyp once became interested in
anything, he would not let it alone until something occurred that he
thought more attractive.
Aunt Judith, shading her eyes with her hand, waited until she felt sure
that Gyp did not intend to return. Then locking the door, and closing
the windows, she made her way down the avenue toward the parsonage.
She felt unusually lonely, and the parson's wife was always glad to see
her.
The walk was a long one, and when Aunt Judith had reached the parsonage,
she paused for a moment to enjoy the light breeze before opening the
little gate. "I saw you coming," said a pleasant voice, "and I guess you
felt the heat on the way. Come in, and sit down under the big maple
trees. It's cooler than it is in the house."
As she spoke, the parson's wife took Aunt Judith's arm, and led her to a
rustic seat, and seating herself beside her, commenced to talk of bits
of parish news.
Aunt Judith's mind was far away with Rose, and her answers became more,
and more wide of the mark.
"I think the boys of the choir sing BEAUTIFULLY," chirped the little
woman, "but they really should have new cotta's, but the society feels
that it really can't afford it."
"Yes'm," said Aunt Judith.
"And there are some that think we ought to have an organist. Mrs.
Bingley volunteers to play until we're able to hire some one, but she
isn't much of a player. She says she can't play any music unless it's
written in ONE flat. She says it's the only key she knows. She says two
flats make her uneasy, but THREE flats makes her simply WILD!"
"Well, if I DON'T let them out of the coop they'll be sick, and if I DO
let them out, they're likely to get lost."
The parson's wife stared uneasily at Aunt Judith. Then thinking that she
must have been needlessly startled, she again spoke.
"As I said before, what makes her WILD is three flats," she said.
"But the chicken-coop is ALL slats," said Aunt Judith, "what DO you mean
by THREE?"
"Don't you feel well?" the little woman asked anxiously, leaning toward
Aunt Judith, and looking up into her shrewd face.
"Why, yes," Aunt Judith replied, "only I'm lonesome without Rose, and
some anxious about the hens."
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