“What did you buy those nasty hens for?” asked Nannie, who did not like chickens.
“Oh, they'll give us something good to eat. It will be so nice to go out every morning and bring in some new-laid eggs for breakfast. You'll like to do that, Nannie.”
“I guess you'd better,” she said with a peculiar look.
So the next morning Steve tiptoed out, through the wet grass, to the hen-house, in his dressing-gown and slippers, he was so eager to pluck this new fruit.
He came in empty-handed, but cheerful.
“We could hardly expect them to lay the first day; they have got to get their bearings.”
Every morning before breakfast Steve took this little walk. There was soon a well-beaten track between the back door and the hen-house. He always returned empty-handed, and Nannie watched with an impish smile from an upper window.
One morning she came upon him in the act of taking off a white door-knob.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
He looked guilty, but answered with a fair show of spirit: