"Have you—seen anything—of—two—children—a little boy, and a girl in black?"
"Chickens? black chickens?" said the old woman, with an angry shake of the head; "no, I hain't got no chickens for yer. My pullet's white, and I set a heap on't an' wouldn't sell it to nobody as come askin' oncivil questions of a lone, lorn widdy. Besides, the cat eat it up las' week, feathers 'n' all."
Mr. Breynton concluded there was not much information to be had in that quarter, and drove on.
A little way farther they came across a small boy turning somersets in the ditch. Mr. Breynton stopped again and repeated his questions.
"How many of 'em?" asked the boy, with a thoughtful look.
"Two, a boy and a girl."
"Two?"
"Yes."
"A boy and a girl?"
"Yes."