The old barn showed the need of a good many nails to be driven here and there, and a deal of mending. Then it would answer for corn-stalks and other coarse fodder. The new barn had been fairly built, and the interior was dry. It still contained as much hay as would be needed for the keeping of a horse and cow until the new crop should be harvested. "Papa," cried Winnie, "where is the chicken place?" "That is one of the questions we must settle at once," I replied. "As we were coming out I saw an old coop in the orchard. We'll go and look at it." It was indeed old and leaky, and had poultry been there the previous night they would have been half drowned on their perches. "This might do for a summer cottage for your chickens, Winnie," I continued, "but never for a winter house. Let us go back to the barn, for I think I remember a place that will just suit, with some changes." Now the new barn had been built on a hillside, and had an ample basement, from which a room extending well into the bank had been partitioned, thus promising all one could desire as a cellar for apples and roots. The entrance to this basement faced the east, and on each side of it was a window. To the right of the entrance were two cow-stalls, and to the left was an open space half full of mouldy corn-stalks and other rubbish. "See here, Winnie and Merton," I said, after a little examination, "I think we could clear out this space on the left, partition it off, make a door, and keep the chickens here. After that window is washed, a good deal of sunlight can come in. I've read that in cold weather poultry need warmth and light, and must be kept dry. Here we can secure all these conditions. Having a home for ourselves, suppose we set to work to make a home for the chickens." This idea delighted Winnie, and pleased Merton almost as much as hunting rabbits. "Now," I resumed, "we will go to the house and get what we need for the work." "Winifred," I said to my wife, "can you let Winnie have a small pail of hot water and some old rags?" "What are you up to now?" "You know all about cleaning house; we are going to clean barn, and make a place for Winnie's chickens. There is a window in their future bedroom--roost-room I suppose I should call it--that looks as if it had never been washed, and to get off the dust of years will be Winnie's task, while Merton, Bobsey, and I create an interior that should satisfy a knowing hen. We'll make nests, too, children, that will suggest to the biddies that they should proceed at once to business." "But where are the chickens to come from?" my wife asked, as she gave the pan to Merton to carry for his sister.