“I'm going to put this in one of the nests. You see, they must think a hen has been there and laid it.”
Nannie burst into a laugh.
“Well, I wouldn't waste time eating the eggs of hens that would be such fools as to think any poor old chicken had laid that door-knob!”
But Steve put it in, nevertheless.
And still morning after morning, with lowered head and dragging footstep, he returned to the house alone—still alone; not so much as a single egg as companion.
Then it was that a pair of imp-like, black eyes danced 'neath the careless ringlets above them.
“How would you like your door-knob this morning—hard or soft?”
This raillery went on day after day until even Steve—gentle, patient Steve had enough.
He looked up at the window and said quietly, but firmly:
“There, Nannie, drop it, if you please.”