CHAPTER VII.
PINK CHIRK.
One lovely morning Hildegarde stood at the back door, feeding the fowls.
She wore her brown gingham frock with the yellow daisies on it, and the daisy-wreathed hat, and in her hands she held a great yellow bowl full of yellow corn.

So bright a picture she made that Farmer Hartley, driving the oxen afield, stopped for pure pleasure to look at her.
Around her the ducks and hens were fighting and squabbling, quacking, clucking, and gobbling, and she flung the corn in golden showers on their heads and backs, making them nearly frantic with greedy anxiety.
[Illustration: "SHE FLUNG THE CORN IN GOLDEN SHOWERS ON THEIR HEADS."] "Wal, Huldy," said the farmer, leaning against Bright's massive side, "you look pooty slick in that gown, I must say.

I reckon thar ain't no sech gown as _that_ on Fifth Avenoo, hey ?" "Indeed, I don't believe there is, Farmer Hartley," replied Hilda, laughing merrily; "at least I never saw one like it.

It _is_ pretty, I think, and _so_ comfortable! And where are you going this morning with the mammoths ?" "Down to the ten-acre lot," replied the farmer.

"The men are makin' hay thar to-day.