"But I'll make a nice coop. And eggs are not twenty-four cents a dozen."
Hal finished off with a quiet smile at the thought of Mrs. Van Wyck.
So he went to Mrs. Kinsey's the next morning, and asked her for a dozen of eggs, promising to come over the first Saturday there was any thing to do, and work it out.
"I'll give you the eggs," she said; "but we will be glad to have you some Saturday, all the same."
So old Speckly was allowed to indulge her motherly inclinations to her great satisfaction. Hal watched her with the utmost solicitude. In the course of time a tiny bill pecked against white prison walls; and one morning Hal found the cunningest ball of soft, yellow down, trying to balance itself on two slender legs, but finding that the point of gravity as often centred in its head. But the little fellow winked oddly, as much as to say, "I know what I'm about. I'll soon find whether it is the fashion to stand on your head or your feet in this queer world."
One by one the rest came out. Hal had a nice coop prepared, and set Mrs. Speckly up at housekeeping. Dot caught one little "birdie," as she called it, and, in running to show Granny, fell down. And although Dot wasn't very heavy, it was an avalanche on poor "birdie." He gave two or three slow kicks with his yellow legs, and then was stiff for all time.
"Hal's boofer birdie," said Dot. "See, Danny!"
"O Dot! what have you done?"
"Him 'oont 'alk;" and Dot stood him down on the doorstep, only to see him tumble over.
"Oh, you've killed Hal's birdie! What will he say?"