They all gathered round the coop, which had been made in a sunny corner of the yard. It was a very pretty coop indeed. It was formed by a box, turned bottom upward to form a shelter for the hen when she chose to retire to it, and a little yard with a paling around it made by bars, to prevent the chickens from straying away. Phonny said that there was a good, comfortable nest in under the box, and he was going to lift up the box and let Mrs. Henry see the nest, but Stuyvesant recommended to him not to do so, as it would frighten the hen. There was an opening in the side of the box, which served as a door for the hen to go in and out at. At the time of Mrs. Henry's visit, the hen was out in the yard walking about. She appeared to be a little anxious at seeing so unusual a company of visitors at her lodgings, and at first thought it probable that they might have come to take some of her chickens away. But when she found that they stood quietly by, and did not disturb her, she became quiet again, and began to scratch upon the ground to find something for the chickens to eat. Seeing this, Phonny ran off to bring some food for them, and presently returned with a saucer full of what he called pudding. It consisted of meal and water stirred up together. He threw out some of this upon the ground within the yard, and the hen, calling the chickens to the place, scattered the pudding about with her bill for the chickens to eat. The boys then wished to have Mrs. Henry go to the shop. She, accordingly, went with them. They opened the shop-door very carefully to keep Frink from getting out. When they were all safely in and the door was shut, they began to look about the room to find the squirrel. "There he is," said Phonny, pointing to the beam over the shutter-window. So saying he went to the place, and putting up his hand, took the squirrel and brought him to his mother. "Why, how tame he is!" said Mrs. Henry. "Yes," said Phonny, "Stuyvesant and I tamed him. He runs all about the shop. And we have got a house for him to sleep in. Come and see his house." So saying, Phonny led his mother and Malleville to the back side of the shop, where, upon a shelf, there stood a small box, with a hole in the side of it, much like the one which had been made for the hen, only not so large. "He goes in there to sleep," said Phonny. "We always feed him in there too, so as to make him like the place." As Phonny said this, he put the squirrel down upon the beam before the door of his house. "Now you will see him go in," said he. Frink crept into his hole, and then turning round within the box, he put his head out a little way, and after looking at Mrs. Henry a moment with one eye, he winked in a very cunning manner. There was a small paper tacked up with little nails on the side of the squirrel's house, near the door. "What is this?" said Mrs. Henry. "Oh! that's his poetry," said Phonny, "you must read it."