It was one scene of pushing and crowding — those which had not
had their share of the feast forcing themselves up to get at
it, and shoving others off in consequence. Ellen was
wonderfully pleased. It was a new and pretty sight, — the busy
hustling crowd of gentle creatures, with the soft noise of
their tread upon grass and stones, and the eager devouring of
the salt. She was fixed with pleasure, looking and listening,
and did not move till the entertainment was over, and the body
of the flock were carelessly scattering here and there, while
a few that had perhaps been disappointed of their part, still
lingered upon the stones, in the vain hope of yet licking a
little saltness from them.
"Well," said Ellen, "I never knew what salt was worth before.
How they do love it! Is it good for them, Mr. Van Brunt?"
"Good for them!" said he — "to be sure it is good for them.
There ain't a critter that walks, as I know, that it ain't
good for— 'cept chickens, and, it's very queer, it kills
them."
They turned to go homeward. Ellen had taken the empty pan to
lay her flowers in, thinking it would be better for them than
the heat of her hand; and, greatly pleased with what she had
come to see, and enjoying her walk as much as it was possible,
she was going home very happy, yet she could not help missing
Mr. Van Brunt's old sociableness. He was uncommonly silent,
even for him, considering that he and Ellen were alone
together; and she wondered what had possessed him with a
desire to cut down all the young saplings he came to that were
large enough for walking-sticks.
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