“How do you happen to know anything about Miss Betsy’s hens?” her mother asked. “Is calling on Miss Betsy your idea of coming straight home from the village?”
“You didn’t say to come straight home, truly, you didn’t, mother. I thought you wouldn’t mind my making a short call on her and the cat.”
Mrs. Owen found it as hard to find fault with Peggy as it had been to find fault with Peggy’s father.
“We’ve got a hen-house out in the yard,” Peggy went on. “The people who lived here before us must have kept hens, so it must be a good climate for them.”
“I have a few things to do besides taking care of hens,” said Mrs. Owen firmly.
“I’d take all the care of them.”
“I should as soon trust them to Lady Janet’s care.”
“But Alice could help me. She’d remind me to feed them.”
“And, besides, hens cost a great deal,” said Mrs. Owen. She had been thinking of the possibility of keeping hens.
“Do chickens cost a lot? Couldn’t we begin with little chickens and let them grow into hens?”