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Now
that
school
was
over
,
Fern
visited
the
barn
almost
every
day
,
to
sit
quietly
on
her
stool
.
The
animals
treated
her
as
an
equal
.
The
sheep
lay
calmly
at
her
feet
.
Around
the
first
of
July
,
the
work
horses
were
hitched
to
the
mowing
machine
,
and
Mr
.
Zuckerman
climbed
into
the
seat
and
drove
into
the
field
.
All
morning
you
could
hear
the
rattle
of
the
machine
as
it
went
round
and
round
,
while
the
tall
grass
fell
down
behind
the
cutter
bar
in
long
green
swathes
.
Next
day
,
if
there
was
no
thunder
shower
,
all
hands
would
help
rake
and
pitch
and
load
,
and
the
hay
would
be
hauled
to
the
barn
in
the
high
hay
wagon
,
with
Fern
and
Avery
riding
at
the
top
of
the
load
.
Then
the
hay
would
be
hoisted
,
sweet
and
warm
,
into
the
big
loft
,
until
the
whole
barn
seemed
like
a
wonderful
bed
of
timothy
and
clover
.
It
was
fine
to
jump
in
,
and
perfect
to
hide
in
.
And
sometimes
Avery
would
find
a
little
grass
snake
in
the
hay
,
and
would
add
it
to
the
other
things
in
his
pocket
.
Early
summer
days
are
a
jubilee
time
for
birds
.
In
the
fields
,
around
the
house
,
in
the
barn
,
in
the
woods
,
in
the
swamp
-
everywhere
love
and
songs
and
nests
and
eggs
.
From
the
edge
of
the
woods
,
the
white
-
throated
sparrow
(
which
must
come
all
the
way
from
Boston
)
calls
,
"
Oh
,
Peabody
,
Peabody
,
Peabody
!
"
On
an
apple
bough
,
the
phoebe
teeters
and
wags
its
tail
and
says
,
"
Phoebe
,
phoe
-
bee
!
"
The
song
sparrow
,
who
knows
how
brief
and
lovely
life
is
,
says
,
"
Sweet
,
sweet
,
sweet
interlude
;
sweet
,
sweet
,
sweet
interlude
.
"
If
you
enter
the
barn
,
the
swallows
swoop
down
from
their
nests
and
scold
.
"
Cheeky
,
cheeky
!
"
they
say
.
In
early
summer
there
are
plenty
of
things
for
a
child
to
eat
and
drink
and
suck
and
chew
.
Dandelion
stems
are
full
of
milk
,
clover
heads
are
loaded
with
nectar
,
the
Frigidaire
is
full
of
ice
-
cold
drinks
.
Everywhere
you
look
is
life
;
even
the
little
ball
of
spit
on
the
weed
stalk
,
if
you
poke
it
apart
,
has
a
green
worm
inside
it
.
And
on
the
under
side
of
the
leaf
of
the
potato
vine
are
the
bright
orange
eggs
of
the
potato
bug
.
It
was
on
a
day
in
early
summer
that
the
goose
eggs
hatched
.
This
was
an
important
event
in
the
barn
cellar
.
Fern
was
there
,
sitting
on
her
stool
,
when
it
happened
.
Except
for
the
goose
herself
,
Charlotte
was
the
first
to
know
that
the
goslings
had
at
last
arrived
.
The
goose
knew
a
day
in
advance
that
they
were
coming
-
she
could
hear
their
weak
voices
calling
from
inside
the
egg
.
She
knew
that
they
were
in
a
desperately
cramped
position
inside
the
shell
and
were
most
anxious
to
break
through
and
get
out
.
So
she
sat
quite
still
,
and
talked
less
than
usual
.
When
the
first
gosling
poked
its
grey
-
green
head
through
the
goose
’
s
feathers
and
looked
around
,
Charlotte
spied
it
and
made
the
announcement
.
"
I
am
sure
,
"
she
said
,
that
every
one
of
us
here
will
be
gratified
to
learn
that
after
four
weeks
of
unremitting
effort
and
patience
on
the
part
of
our
friend
the
goose
,
she
now
has
something
to
show
for
it
.
The
goslings
have
arrived
.
May
I
offer
my
sincere
congratulations
!
"
