She slipped out of the side door, and took her way direct and a little sullen. When she came to the clearing she was terribly uneasy. But there he was again, in his shirtsleeves, stooping, letting the hens out of the coops, among the chicks that were now growing a little gawky, but were much more trim than hen-chickens.

She went straight across to him.

“You see I’ve come!” she said.

“Ay, I see it!” he said, straightening his back, and looking at her with a faint amusement.

“Do you let the hens out now?” she asked.

“Yes, they’ve sat themselves to skin and bone,” he said. “An’ now they’re not all that anxious to come out an’ feed. There’s no self in a sitting hen; she’s all in the eggs or the chicks.”

The poor mother hens; such blind devotion! even to eggs not their own! Connie looked at them in compassion. A helpless silence fell between the man and the woman.