Very gingerly she put forward her hand.

The hen bobbed for her.

She drew back quickly with a cry, half of fear, half of chagrin.
"It won't hurt you," said Paul.
She flushed crimson and started up.
"I only wanted to try," she said in a low voice.
"See, it doesn't hurt," he said, and, putting only two corns in his palm, he let the hen peck, peck, peck at his bare hand.

"It only makes you laugh," he said.
She put her hand forward and dragged it away, tried again, and started back with a cry.

He frowned.
"Why, I'd let her take corn from my face," said Paul, "only she bumps a bit.