They beat her by one--one poor chick
came out. The shock was too much for the old hen, and she deserted it,
and I poddied it in a box for a week, and called it Moses, and it would
eat out of my hand, and then it died!" He gasped for breath, and Norah
gazed with undisguised admiration at the orator.
"So I know how you'd feel," Wally finished.
"I might--but my hens weren't cannibals. They didn't eat any."
"You had luck," said the unabashed Wally. "Well, what happened?"
"They sat quite nicely--"
"And the eggs were addled, weren't they? It's always the way with half
these swagger sittings you buy from dealers. They--"
"Oh, Wally, I WISH you wouldn't be so intelligent!" said Norah, with
not unnatural heat. "How am I ever going to tell you?"
"Why, I thought you were telling me as hard as ever you could!" Wally
responded, visibly indignant "Well, fire away; I won't speak another
word!"
"I don't think you could help it," Norah laughed. "However, I'd eight
hens sitting, and I really do believe that they understood their
responsibilities, for they set as if they were glued, except when they
came off for necessary exercise and refreshment. Even then, they never
gave me any of the usual bother about refusing to go back into the
right box, or scratching the eggs out.
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