CHAPTER THREE
DISCOVERY OF THE "THINKERATOR"

The bright sunshine peered straight into Miss Miller's face in the morning and invited her to listen to the singing of birds, the busy clucking of chickens, and the swish of the pines that stood near her window, at the back of the house.

She leaped from bed and sighed with happiness at the picture of rural beauty before her. But how could the noise of thrifty chickens reach her when Sherwood's cottage was so far away?

"I must investigate!" murmured Miss Miller, as she quickly dressed and crept downstairs. Out of the back door took another minute and she stood on the kitchen stoop looking eagerly about. From the direction of the carriage-sheds came the sound.

"I must call and say good-morning," said the teacher, and forthwith ran along the path until the out-houses were reached.

There, sure enough, was a scolding hen with a dozen chicks misbehaving with all their might, and a few other sedate hens, intent upon breakfast.

"Bill must have brought them over yesterday. I'm glad for the girls' sake, as it will be part of their education – becoming acquainted with all manner of creatures."

Miss Miller cheeped, too, and attracted one of the small yellow balls of down and soon had it cuddled up to her face. The mother-hen, albeit she had been scolding a moment previous, now flew into hysterics at the threatened kidnapping of her chick.

"Poor little mother! Did you think I would rob you of a child?" laughed Miss Miller, as she carefully placed the little chick in the grass. Then, taking a deep breath of fresh morning air, she walked back to the house.

"I suppose the children are tired after yesterday! I must guard myself and not be too critical and severe with them – they are still young and only partially developed, both mind and body!"

She reached the kitchen and started preparations for breakfast. While the cereal was boiling and the kettle singing, she gathered a bouquet of flowers from a roundel on the front lawn. These gave fragrance to the table, and by the time the dishes were all placed, the cereal was cooked.

"High time they were up!" quoth Miss Miller, as she went upstairs to rouse the girls.

But Zan, a true country girl, had been awake for some time and enjoyed the fresh morning breeze from her window.

"Did you make friends with Groutch?" asked she, as Miss Miller smiled a good-morning to her.

"Groutch – who's Groutch?" pondered the teacher.

"Why, the old hen! She's always quarrelling with friends or family, so we named her Groutch," laughed Zan.

"Oh – the hen! I wondered how she got there? Did you see me talking to her?" replied Miss Miller.

Zan laughed delightedly at an opportunity to correct the teacher. "No – I saw you there but heard you talking!"

"One for you, Zan! That casts discredit on my early morning thinking apparatus, doesn't it?" said Miss Miller, laughing at her own expense. "But tell me – did Bill bring the chickens?"

"Thereby hangs a tale," giggled Zan, turning her back and asking Nita to hook the centre of her dress-waist.

The other girls came in to hear a possible story, and Zan explained the presence of Groutch and her friends.

"Last summer Fiji had the chicken-raising fever and we let him have the carriage-house for his venture. He succeeded, too, but Fall came and we had to go back to the city. He had sold half his chickens to mother during the late summer, and wanted to sell the other half to friends in the city, but Daddy didn't like the idea of that. Finally, the butcher in Junction took all he had, and when it came time to deliver the chickens on our way home, not a sign of Groutch and the three other hens could we find! We had to leave with only the spring chickens. A day after we got home Bill Sherwood wrote Fiji that the hens all came back to roost outside the house the same night. Fiji wrote for him to take them to the butcher the first time he went to Junction. And, Miss Miller, you can believe me or not, those hens skiddooed every time Bill Sherwood planned to catch them! After several vain trials, he sent word to Fiji that he was done with chicken chasing! How we laughed at that letter!"

"How remarkable! And I never gave chickens credit for any intelligence!" said Miss Miller.

"No, and most folks think they are stupid things; why, you know the slang saying, 'crazy as a hen,'" added Nita.

"Well, they're not! Why, that Groutch wouldn't even go to live in Bill's chicken coop with his flock. No siree! She just sulked about here until Bill had to open the carriage house for her to make her nest again. Then, he cut a small opening near the door so she could get in and out when the door was locked. In the next day or two, Bill missed the other hens from his chicken-house where they had been contented. And what do you think! That sly old hen had gone after them and led them back to their original home – and there they've stayed ever since! Whenever we come down to visit the farm those daffy old hens cluck and wriggle about Fiji's feet as if he were the Prince and they his subjects!"

"I think that is lovely! To think of those hens showing their joy and recognition that way!" exclaimed Miss Miller, amazed.

"Daddy says that Fiji has the true Nature instinct, for every animal he meets seems to know him instantly and show a regard for him," added Zan.

"I have always wished that I had that great gift! It can be cultivated with great sincerity and love for Nature, but some are gifted with it unconsciously!" sighed Miss Miller.

The four girls had listened to Zan's tale with wonderment, and as Miss Miller remembered the breakfast, and said it was waiting, Jane said, "We should have missed this in the Adirondacks."

"I see many beauties we would have missed had we gone far off to the mountains! One of them is the lowly and silent lesson under Elena's feet," said Miss Miller.

All eyes looked down at the floor but saw nothing beside the braided mat. Miss Miller smiled and ran down-stairs without vouchsafing an explanation.

"Miss Miller certainly does puzzle me until she deigns to explain – then it all seems plain as day!" said Hilda.

But further talk was interrupted by a delighted cry from the front porch. The five girls hurried down and joined their teacher on the porch.

"Why – strawberries! How did they get here?" cried some of the girls.

"A note on top of one box said that Mrs. Sherwood sent them over for our breakfast – if we had not finished already!" laughed Miss Miller, looking at her watch.

"It must be almost eight o'clock!" ventured Nita.

"No, it is five to six!" replied Miss Miller.

"Six – why it feels like noon!" said Jane.

"That's because the air is so invigorating," returned Zan. "We always have to get up early in the country, and that gives you such a long, long day to enjoy!"

"I suppose Sherwoods rise at four," Miss Miller said.

"Dear no! Why four o'clock is almost midnight! Why should any one wish to get up at that dreadful hour!" cried Nita, horror-struck at such habits.

"Because country folks retire with the sun and rise with it – that's what all true Indians do, and so will we presently," said Miss Miller, smiling at the various expressions on the faces about her.

"Come now, we'll hull the berries and then enjoy them!" and in a few minutes every one was engaged in crushing the ripe fruit in a deep dish of rich cream – real unadulterated cream!

When the dishes had been washed and placed in the closet Miss Miller advised each one to unpack what baggage had been brought by hand the day before. The clothes worn on the journey down to the farm were to be carefully hung in the closets upstairs and the ordinary gymnasium uniforms worn until their costumes were completed.

"Our next step will be to choose a permanent site for our tents, and try to move the articles we need from the barn to the woods," said Miss Miller.

"Can't we ask Bill Sherwood to do that? It's so warm to-day," cried Nita, peevishly.

"If Bill were not here, who would you have do it?" asked the teacher.

"Hire some one else, I s'pose," muttered Nita.

"I wonder what you would have done if we had gone to the wild mountains for our first experiment, as you wanted us to," asked Zan, curiously.

"Oh, that would have been different. We'd have to do our share there, you know, or go without," replied Nita.

"That is exactly what we intend doing here – work or go without!" said Miss Miller, emphatically.

"But that tramp across the fields and woods to move the bedding and other stuff! Phew, Miss Miller, do you realise what a herculean task that means?" replied Nita, dismayed.

"It gets worse every minute we stand here and worry over it!" laughed Zan.

Without further ado, Zan, followed by Miss Miller and all of the girls excepting Nita, went toward the barns where the boys' tents and outfits were stored. They were soon thrown out of the wide hay-loft window and due inspection given them to test their worth for usage.

"Girls, has either one of you thought of a possible way to carry these outfits over to the Bluff without exerting yourselves too much?" asked Miss Miller, when the girls stood ready to shoulder their burdens.

They looked at each other for an answer. None came. Finally, Jane looked at the teacher and laughingly remarked, "One of your think-right schemes?"

Miss Miller nodded and smiled. "How did you know?"

Jane was dumb, as she had merely thought of teasing Miss Miller and was taken aback at her reply.

"Is it possible that Zan hasn't an inkling of what to do in this case – and she is a country girl?" added Miss Miller.

No one seemed inspired with original thought that morning, so the teacher started for the woods, carrying her burden.

"Wait a minute, Miss Miller!" shouted Hilda. "Give us time to figure this out, and save our backs!"

Every one laughed, still no one could solve the way to move without doing the moving. Again the teacher sighed and said, "When one won't think, one must pay the price!"

This time each girl shouldered as much of the outfit as could be comfortably carried, and followed in the footsteps of the teacher, who was at least twenty feet in advance.

At the Bluff, the heavy luggage was dropped with sighs of relief. Miss Miller left the girls to either think or go back for the rest of the canvas and cots.

"I am going down to Bill's for the stuff that came out by express a few days ago. The cases are down in the Sherwood's barn. Bill offered to open them and help me take the stuff out. While you girls see that the other things are moved over here I will attend to moving up the new things." With this the teacher started down the slope.

"Hey! Miss Miller, won't you tell us the secret in moving without moving?" laughed Zan, catching hold of the teacher's short skirt as she passed.

"I find that a child that depends upon the mother to help it out of difficulties never advances like the one who has to work his own problems. I believe that one reason our city newsboys are so clever is just because they must depend upon their own wits. It puts a sharp edge on wits – using them for oneself."

As soon as the teacher had disappeared about the corner of Sherwood's cottage, Zan suggested a plot to trap her. The other girls laughed merrily and jumped up to follow Zan into the woods.

The boxes and bales at Bill's barn were soon unpacked and Bill stood up wiping his brow with a red bandanna. He took a calculating glance at the steep slope and remarked, "Some haul!"

"Oh, not for a strong plough-horse that has been idle for two days!" replied Miss Miller, innocently.

Bill flushed and his eyes shot fire as he said, "Meanin' jus' what, ma'am?"

"Why, you told me how Nancy ate her head off since the family were not coming down and no extra work could be found for the horse to do. I thought she could drag these things up to the Bluff for us," replied Miss Miller, finding it hard to control a strong inclination to laugh.

The farmer's face underwent a sudden change as he smiled broadly and replied, "Oh, ya'as-sam! Of course! Nancy is a powerful beast!"

The two went to the barn to request Nancy to come forth and take her part in the day's work, when Miss Miller spied a queer steel-barred frame lying on a rubbish heap by the side of the barn-yard fence. It looked like a skeleton of a huge cradle without rockers.

"Bill, what is that strange thing over there?"

"That? Oh, that's a section of an old harvestin' machine we hain't used fur years! They've got better ones nowadays. That one is on'y good t' sell fur junk!" explained Bill.

"Then we can have it now, can't we? Have you a piece of strong rope?"

"Sure! but I don't see what yuh want with this ole cradle," mused Bill.

"You'll see!" said Miss Miller, as she tied one end of the rope securely to the steel cradle and hitched the rope to Nancy's harness. The cradle was dragged across the grass to the pile of articles awaiting transportation. The cradle was soon filled and Nancy started up the slope. At the Bluff the goods were deposited and Bill sent back with Nancy for the rest.

Miss Miller stood sorting out the various things when a loud laugh sounded from the trunks of some nearby trees.

"Ah-ha! We caught you shirking work!" called the girls as they ran out and surrounded the teacher.

"Oh, no you haven't! You merely saw the effect of some common sense thought!" retorted Miss Miller.

"Hum! So that is what you meant when you wanted us to think of an ordinary way to move?" laughed Zan.

Miss Miller nodded while the others stood about with nothing to say.

When Bill came up with the second load he smiled at Zan as he remarked, "Miss Miller is some conniver, eh? But I rickon she ain't strong on th' house-work idees. Ef she was, she'd be a powerful help to my ole lady who gits laid up regerlar ever winter with stiff jints, so thet mos' th' house-work comes on me."

"Bill, maybe I can show you both some things this summer that will not only make living a joy but keep stiff joints out of your experience entirely," replied the teacher.

"Say, ef you kin do that! The doctor tried en failed wid his medicine, an' him's a smart doctor, too!"

Zan laughed appreciatively at the comparison and turned to Miss Miller. "Now, you have to show Bill or lose your reputation as a 'conniver.'"