Among the Farmyard People

by Clara Dillingham Pierson

  THE TWIN LAMBS

  There was a Lamb, a bright, frisky young fellow, who had a twin sister.Their mother loved them both and was as kind to one as to the other, butthe brother wanted to have the best of everything, and sometimes he evenbunted his sister with his hard little forehead. His mother had to speakto him many times about this, for he was one of those trying childrenwho will not mind when first spoken to.

  He did not really mean to be naughty--he was only strong and frisky andthoughtless. Sometimes he was even rude to his mother. She felt very sadwhen this was so, yet she loved him dearly and found many excuses forhim in her own heart.

  There were three other pairs of twins in the flock that year, and astheir mothers were not strong enough to care for two Lambs apiece, thefarmer had taken one twin from each pair to a little pen near the house.Here they stayed, playing happily together, and drinking milk from abottle which the farmer's wife brought to them. They were hungry veryoften, like all young children, and when their stomachs began to feelempty, or even to feel as if they might feel empty, they crowded againstthe side of the pen, pushed their pinkish-white noses through theopenings between the boards, and bleated and bleated and bleated to thefarmer's wife.

  Soon she would come from the kitchen door and in her hand would bringthe big bottle full of milk for them. There was a soft rubber top tothis bottle, through which the Lambs could draw the milk into theirmouths. Of course they all wanted to drink at once, though there wasonly a chance for one, and the others always became impatient while theywere waiting. The farmer's wife was patient, even when the Lambs, intheir hurry to get the milk, took her fingers into their mouths and bitthem instead of the top of the bottle.

  Our twin Lamb wanted to have his sister taken into the pen with theother three, and he spoke about it to his mother. "I know how you canmanage," said he. "Whenever she comes near you, just walk away from her,and then the farmer will take her up to the pen."

  "You selfish fellow!" answered his mother. "Do you want your dear littletwin sister to leave us?"

  He hung his head for a minute, but replied, "She'd have just as good atime. They have all they can eat up there, and they have lots of fun."

  FEEDING THE LAMBS.]

  "If you think it is so pleasant in the pen," said his mother, "suppose Ibegin to walk away from you, and let the farmer take you away. I thinkyour sister would rather stay with me."

  "Oh, no!" cried her son. "I don't want to leave my own dear woollymother! I want to cuddle up to you every night and have you tell mestories about the stars."

  "Do you think you love me very much?" said she. "You don't know how toreally love yet, for you are selfish, and there is not room in a selfishheart for the best kind of love."

  That made the Lamb feel very badly. "I do love her dearly," he cried, ashe stood alone. "I believe I love her ever so much more than my sisterdoes."

  That was where the little fellow was mistaken, for although his sisterdid not talk so much about it, she showed her love in many other ways.If she had been taken from her mother for even a few days, they couldnever again have had such sweet and happy days together. Sheep lookmuch alike, and they cannot remember each other's faces very long. If aLamb is taken away from his mother for even a short time, they do notknow each other when they meet afterward. Perhaps this is one reason whythey keep together so much, for it would be sad indeed not to know one'smother or one's child.

  His sister never knew that he had wanted her taken away. She thought heacted queerly sometimes, but she was so loving and unselfish herselfthat she did not dream of his selfishness. Instead of putting the ideaout of his woolly little head, as he could have done by thinking more ofother things, the brother let himself think of it more and more. Thatmade him impatient with even his mother, and he often answered her quitecrossly. Sometimes, when she spoke to him, he did not answer at all, andthat was just as bad.

  His mother would sigh and say to herself, "My child is not a comfort tome after all, yet when I looked for the first time into his dear littleface, I thought that as long as I had him beside me I should always behappy."

  One night, when the weather was fair and warm, the farmer drove all theSheep and Lambs into the Sheep-shed. They had been lying out under thebeautiful blue sky at night, and they did not like this nearly so well.They did not understand it either, so they were frightened andbewildered, and bleated often to each other, "What is this for? What isthis for?"

  The Lambs did not mind it so much, for they were not warmly dressed, butthe Sheep, whose wool had been growing for a year and was long andheavy, found it very close and uncomfortable. They did not know that thefarmer had a reason for keeping them dry that night while the heavy dewwas falling outside. The same thing was done every year, but they couldnot remember so long as that, and having a poor memory is always hard.

  "Stay close to me, children," said the mother of the twins. "I mayforget how you look if you are away long."

  "It seems to me," said the brother, "that we always have to stay closeto you. I never have a bit of fun!"

  When they had cuddled down for the night, the twin Lambs slept soundly.Their mother lay awake for a long, long time in the dark, and she wasnot happy. A few careless words from a selfish little Lamb had made herheart ache. They were not true words either, for during the daytime herchildren ran with their playmates and had fine frolics. Still, we knowthat when people are out of patience they often say things that are notreally so.

  In the morning, men came into the barn, which opened off theSheep-shed. They had on coarse, old clothing, and carried queer-lookingshears in their hands. The Sheep could see them now and then when thedoor was open. Once the farmer stood in the doorway and seemed to becounting them. This made them huddle together more closely than ever.They could see the men carrying clean yellow straw into the barn andspreading it on the floor. On top of this was stretched a great sheet ofclean cloth.

  Then the men began to come into the shed and catch the Sheep and carrythem into the barn. They were frightened and bleated a good deal, butwhen one was caught and carried away, although he might struggle hard tofree himself, he did not open his mouth. The old Wether Sheep was thefirst to be taken, and then the young ones who had been Lambs the yearbefore. For a long time not one of the mothers was chosen. Still, nobodyknew what would happen next, and so, the fewer Sheep there were left,the more closely they huddled together.

  At last, when the young Sheep had all been taken, one of the men caughtthe mother of the twins and carried her away. She turned her face towardher children, but the door swung shut after her, and they were left withthe other Lambs and their mothers. From the barn came the sound ofsnip-snip-snipping and the murmur of men's voices. Once the twinsthought they saw their mother lying on the floor and a man kneelingbeside her, holding her head and forelegs under his arm, yet they werenot sure of this.

  The brother ran to the corner of the shed and put his head against theboards. He suddenly felt very young and helpless. "My dear woollymother!" he said to himself, over and over, and he wondered if he wouldever see her again. He remembered what he had said to her the nightbefore. It seemed to him that he could even now hear his own voicesaying crossly, "Seems to me we always have to stay close to you. Inever have a bit of fun!" He wished he had not said it. He knew she wasa dear mother, and he would have given anything in the world for achance to stay close to her again.

  His sister felt as lonely and frightened as he, but she did not act inthe same way. She stood close to a younger Lamb whose mother had justbeen taken away, and tried to comfort her. One by one the mothers weretaken until only the Lambs remained. They were very hungry now, andbleated pitifully. Still the twin brother stood with his head in thecorner. He had closed his eyes, but now he opened them, and through acrack in the wall of the shed, he saw some very slender andwhite-looking Sheep turned into the meadow. At first they acted dizzy,and staggered instead of walking straight; then they stopped staggeringand began to frisk. "Can it be?" said he. "It surely is
!" For, althoughhe had never in his short life seen a newly shorn Sheep, he began tounderstand what had happened.

  He knew that the men had only been clipping the long wool from theSheep, and that they were now ready for warm weather. No wonder theyfrisked when their heavy burdens of wool were carefully taken off.

  Now the farmer opened the door into the barn again, and let the Lambswalk through it to the gate of the meadow. They had never before beeninside this barn, and the twin brother looked quickly around as hescampered across the floor. He saw some great ragged bundles of wool,and a man was just rolling up the last fleece. He wondered if that hadbeen taken from his mother and was the very one against which he hadcuddled when he was cold or frightened.

  When they first reached the pasture, the Lambs could not tell whichwere their mothers. Shearing off their long and dingy fleeces had madesuch a difference in their looks! The twin brother knew his mother byher way of walking and by her voice, but he could see that his sisterdid not know her at all. He saw his mother wandering around as thoughshe did not know where to find her children, and a naughty plan cameinto his head. If he could keep his sister from finding their mother foreven a short time, he knew that the farmer would take her up to the pen.He thought he knew just how to do it, and he started to run to her. Thenhe stopped and remembered how sad and lonely he had been without hismother only a little while before, and he began to pity the Lambs in thepen.

  Now his selfishness and his goodness were fighting hard in him. Onesaid, "Send your sister away," and the other, "Take her to your mother."At last he ran as fast as he could toward his sister. "I am good now,"he said to himself, "but it may not last long. I will tell her before Iam naughty again."

  "Oh sister!" cried he. "Come with me to our mother. She doesn't knowwhere to find us."

  He saw a happy look on his sister's sad little face, and he was gladthat he had done the right thing. They skipped away together, kicking uptheir heels as they went, and it seemed to the brother that he had neverbeen so happy in his life. He was soon to be happier, though, for whenthey reached his "new, white mother," as he called her, and his sistertold her how he had shown her the way, his mother said, "Now you are acomfort to me. You will be a happier Lamb, too, for you know that amother's heart is large enough for all her children, and that the moreone loves, the better he loves."

  "Why, of course," said the twin sister. "What do you mean?"

  But the mother never told her, and the brother never told her, and it ishoped that you will keep the secret.