Florence laughed and they made their way over to where the two men stood. As soon as they were within speaking distance, Dimple began to put her questions. "Are you going to build something, papa? What is it? Please don't say it's a fence, or a—a pig-sty."
Mr. Coulter chuckled as he went on laying his foot-rule along the ground.
"I hope it won't turn into a pig-sty," Mr. Dallas replied, with a smile. "It won't unless little pigs get into it."
"Are you going to keep little pigs?" Dimple asked.
"I didn't say so."
"Oh, papa, you are so mystiferious. I wish you would tell us all about it. What are you going to build? Any sort of house?"
"Yes, one sort of house."
"What is it to be for?"
"Little chicks."
"Ah!" Dimple was quite satisfied. "I see. You need a new hen house. Isn't the old one big enough? To be sure we don't get very many eggs just now, for so many of the hens are sitting. Oh, I know, maybe you are going to build a place like Mr. Lind's, with a—what is that thing? A inkybator. Are you going to have one of those? and a brooder? Are you, papa?"