So, Clover's bridle over her arm, Betty proceeded out to the barnyard.
"Why—how funny!" she gasped.
The unearthly stillness which had reigned was broken at her approach by the neighing of a horse, and at the sound the chickens began to beat madly against the wire fencing of their yard, cows set up a bellowing, and a wild grunting came from the pig-pen.
Betty hurried to the barn. Three cows in their stanchions turned imploring eyes on her, and a couple of old horses neighed loudly. Something prompted Betty to look in the feed boxes. They were empty.
"I believe they're hungry!" she exclaimed. "Clover, I don't believe they've been fed or watered for several days! They wouldn't act like this if they had."
There wasn't a drop of water anywhere in or about the barn, and a hasty investigation of the pig troughs and the drinking vessels in the chicken yard showed the same state of affairs.
"I don't know how much to feed you," Betty told the suffering animals compassionately, "but at any rate I know what to feed you. And you shall have some water as fast as I can pump it."
She was thankful for the weeks spent at Bramble Farm as she set about her heavy tasks. She was tired from her long ride and the excitement
