"Why, Hal, you'll make a mint of money!" exclaimed Joe. "I suppose you mean to put it in government bonds."
Hal only laughed.
But he and Granny were busy as bees all day. About four o'clock Mr. Kinsey came over to see how the packing progressed.
"There are just two dozen," said Hal; "and I shall have two dozen again next week."
"They're beauties too! Why, I believe they go ahead of mine. You've plucked them nicely. Poultry's pretty high this year; retailing at twenty-five and twenty-eight, I heard."
They weighed them, and then laid them snugly in the crate; plump and yellow, looking almost good enough to eat without a pinch of salt, Mr. Kinsey said.
"Now I shall send them all over to the station, and they'll go through in the freight-train. Jim will soon be here with the wagon."
Joe and Hal counted up the possible profit that evening. They had raised, with all their broods, sixty-five chickens. The actual outlay for food had been seventeen dollars; and Hal had sold eggs to the value of two dollars and a half.
"It's better than keeping store, I do believe!" ejaculated Joe. "Hal, you have a genius for farming."
"Does raising chickens prove it?"