POULTRY MEG was the only human occupant in the handsome new house which was built for the fowls and ducks on the estate.It stood where the old baronial man-sion had stood，with its tower， crow-step gable，moat，and drawbridge. Close by was a wilderness of trees andbushes ;the garden had been here and had stretched downto a big lake， which was now a bog. Rooks，crows，andjackdaws flew screaming and cawing over the old trees， aperfect swarm of birds. They did not seem to decrease，but rather to increase， although one shot amongst them.One could hear them inside the poultry-house， where Poultry Meg sat with the ducklings running about over herwooden shoes.She knew every fowl，and every duck，from the time it crept out of the egg; she was proud of herfowls and ducks， and proud of the splendid house which had been built for them.
Her own little room was clean and neat， that was thewish of the lady to whom the poultry-house belonged; sheoften came there with distinguished guests and showed them the "barracks of the hens and ducks"，as she called it. Here was both a wardrobe and an easy-chair，and even a chest of drawers，and on it was a brightly polishedbrass plate on which was engraved the word "Grubbe"，which was the name of the old，noble family who had lived here in the mansion. The brass plate was found when they were digging here， and the parish clerk hadsaid that it had no other value except as an old relic. Theclerk knew all about the place and the old time， for hehad knowledge from books;there were so many manuscripts in his table-drawer .He had great knowledgeof the old times; but the oldest of the crows knew moreperhaps，and screamed aboaut it in his own language，butit was crow-language， which the clerk did not under-stand，clever as he might be.
The bog could steam after a warm summer day so that it seemed as if a lake lay behind the old trees，where thecrows， rooks， and jackdaws flew; so it had appeared whenthe Knight Grubbe had lived here， and the old manor- house stood with its thick，red walls.The dog's chain usedto reach quite past the gateway in those days;through thetower， one went into a stone-paved passage which led to the rooms; the windows were narrow and the panes small，even in the great hall，where the dancing took place，but in the time of the last Grubbe there was no dancing as farback as one could remember，and yet there lay there an old kettledrum which had served as part of the music.Here stood a curions carved cupboard， in which rare flower bulbswere kept， for Lady Grubbe was fond of gardening， and cultivated tress and plants ; her husband preferred ridingout to shoot wolves and wild boars， and his little daughterMarie always went with him .When she was only five years old， she sat proudly on her horse， and looked round brave-ly with her big black eyes. It was her delight to hit outwith her whip amongst the hounds; her father would havepreferred to see her hit out amongst the peasant boys who came to look at the company.
The peassant in the clay house close to the manor had a son called SMarie Grubbe called him her Sren—that was a great favour，and it was a good thing for his father， poor John;he had committed a fault one day，and was to be punishedby riding the wooden horse.It stood in the yard， with fourpoles for legs， and a single narrow plank for a back ; onthis John had to ride astride， and have some heavy bricks fastened to his legs， so that he might not sit too comfort-ably;he made horrible grimaces， and Sren wept and im- plored little Marie to interfere; immediately she orderedthat Sren's father should be taken down， and when they did not obey her she stamped on the stone pavement，andpulled her father's coat sleeve till it was torn. She would have her way， and she got it， and Sren's father was tak-en down.
The Lady Grubbe，who now came up，stroked her little daughter's hair， and looked at her affectionately ;Maire did not understand why .She would go to the hounds， and not with her mother ， who went into the gar- den， down to the lake， where the white and yellow water- lilies bloomed ， and the bulrushes nodded amongst the reeds. She looked at all this luxuriance and freshness.
"How pleasant!" said she. There stood in the garden a rare tree which she herself had planted; it was called a"copper-beech"， a kind of black a mooor amongst the oth- er trees， so dark brown were the leaves; it must havestrong sunshine， otherwise in continual shade it would be- come green like the other trees and so lose its distinctive character.In the high chestnut-trees were many birds'
nests， as well as in the bushes and the grassy meadows.
It seemed as if the birds knew that they were protected here， for here no one dared to fire a gun.