{"product_id":"2940013744479","title":"The Fox","description":"The two girls were usually known by their surnames, Banford and\u003cbr\u003eMarch.  They had taken the farm together, intending to work it all\u003cbr\u003eby themselves: that is, they were going to rear chickens, make a\u003cbr\u003eliving by poultry, and add to this by keeping a cow, and raising\u003cbr\u003eone or two young beasts.  Unfortunately, things did not turn out\u003cbr\u003ewell.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBanford was a small, thin, delicate thing with spectacles.  She,\u003cbr\u003ehowever, was the principal investor, for March had little or no\u003cbr\u003emoney.  Banford's father, who was a tradesman in Islington, gave\u003cbr\u003ehis daughter the start, for her health's sake, and because he loved\u003cbr\u003eher, and because it did not look as if she would marry.  March was\u003cbr\u003emore robust.  She had learned carpentry and joinery at the evening\u003cbr\u003eclasses in Islington.  She would be the man about the place.  They\u003cbr\u003ehad, moreover, Banford's old grandfather living with them at the\u003cbr\u003estart.  He had been a farmer.  But unfortunately the old man died\u003cbr\u003eafter he had been at Bailey Farm for a year.  Then the two girls\u003cbr\u003ewere left alone.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThey were neither of them young: that is, they were near thirty.\u003cbr\u003eBut they certainly were not old.  They set out quite gallantly with\u003cbr\u003etheir enterprise.  They had numbers of chickens, black Leghorns and\u003cbr\u003ewhite Leghorns, Plymouths and Wyandottes; also some ducks; also two\u003cbr\u003eheifers in the fields.  One heifer, unfortunately, refused\u003cbr\u003eabsolutely to stay in the Bailey Farm closes.  No matter how March\u003cbr\u003emade up the fences, the heifer was out, wild in the woods, or\u003cbr\u003etrespassing on the neighbouring pasture, and March and Banford were\u003cbr\u003eaway, flying after her, with more haste than success.  So this\u003cbr\u003eheifer they sold in despair.  Then, just before the other beast was\u003cbr\u003eexpecting her first calf, the old man died, and the girls, afraid\u003cbr\u003eof the coming event, sold her in a panic, and limited their\u003cbr\u003eattentions to fowls and ducks.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn spite of a little chagrin, it was a relief to have no more\u003cbr\u003ecattle on hand.  Life was not made merely to be slaved away.  Both\u003cbr\u003egirls agreed in this.  The fowls were quite enough trouble.  March\u003cbr\u003ehad set up her carpenter's bench at the end of the open shed.  Here\u003cbr\u003eshe worked, making coops and doors and other appurtenances.  The\u003cbr\u003efowls were housed in the bigger building, which had served as barn\u003cbr\u003eand cow-shed in old days.  They had a beautiful home, and should\u003cbr\u003ehave been perfectly content.  Indeed, they looked well enough.  But\u003cbr\u003ethe girls were disgusted at their tendency to strange illnesses, at\u003cbr\u003etheir exacting way of life, and at their refusal, obstinate refusal\u003cbr\u003eto lay eggs.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMarch did most of the outdoor work.  When she was out and about, in\u003cbr\u003eher puttees and breeches, her belted coat and her loose cap, she\u003cbr\u003elooked almost like some graceful, loose-balanced young man, for her\u003cbr\u003eshoulders were straight, and her movements easy and confident, even\u003cbr\u003etinged with a little indifference or irony.  But her face was not a\u003cbr\u003eman's face, ever.  The wisps of her crisp dark hair blew about her\u003cbr\u003eas she stooped, her eyes were big and wide and dark, when she\u003cbr\u003elooked up again, strange, startled, shy and sardonic at once.  Her\u003cbr\u003emouth, too, was almost pinched as if in pain and irony.  There was\u003cbr\u003esomething odd and unexplained about her.  She would stand balanced\u003cbr\u003eon one hip, looking at the fowls pattering about in the obnoxious\u003cbr\u003efine mud of the sloping yard, and calling to her favourite white\u003cbr\u003ehen, which came in answer to her name.  But there was an almost\u003cbr\u003esatirical flicker in March's big, dark eyes as she looked at her\u003cbr\u003ethree-toed flock pottering about under her gaze, and the same\u003cbr\u003eslight dangerous satire in her voice as she spoke to the favoured\u003cbr\u003ePatty, who pecked at March's boot by way of friendly demonstration.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFowls did not flourish at Bailey Farm, in spite of all that March\u003cbr\u003edid for them.  When she provided hot food for them in the morning,\u003cbr\u003eaccording to rule, she noticed that it made them heavy and dozy for\u003cbr\u003ehours.  She expected to see them lean against the pillars of the\u003cbr\u003eshed in their languid processes of digestion.  And she knew quite\u003cbr\u003ewell that they ought to be busily scratching and foraging about, if\u003cbr\u003ethey were to come to any good.  So she decided to give them their\u003cbr\u003ehot food at night, and let them sleep on it.  Which she did.  But\u003cbr\u003eit made no difference.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWar conditions, again, were very unfavourable to poultry-keeping.\u003cbr\u003eFood was scarce and bad.  And when the Daylight Saving Bill was\u003cbr\u003epassed, the fowls obstinately refused to go to bed as usual, about\u003cbr\u003enine o'clock in the summer-time.  That was late enough, indeed, for\u003cbr\u003ethere was no peace till they were shut up and asleep.  Now they\u003cbr\u003echeerfully walked around, without so much as glancing at the barn,\u003cbr\u003euntil ten o'clock or later.  Both Banford and March disbelieved in\u003cbr\u003eliving for work alone.","brand":"WDS Publishing","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":47174882623728,"sku":"2940013744479","price":0.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":true}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/0737\/7593\/9824\/files\/2940013744479_p0.jpg?v=1763589664","url":"https:\/\/shop-qa.barnesandnoble.com\/products\/2940013744479","provider":"Barnes \u0026 Noble (DEV)","version":"1.0","type":"link"}