The next morning Sally greeted him with a smile. “Eggs this mornin', Pap,” she said. “That hen-food did work like a charm. I got three eggs.”
Pap ate without comment until he had finished the second egg. He felt that he could eat a dozen, after his long fast.
“It do seem good to have eggs agin,” he said.
That evening, and the next evening he deposited three eggs as before. On the third morning Sally said: “It's queer about them hens, Pap; they lay, but they don't cluck like a hen generally does when she lays an egg.”
Pap hesitated for a moment.
“It's sich cold weather,” he said, “I reckon that's why.”
About a week later Sally said: “I do declare to gracious, Pap, them hens do puzzle me.”
Pap moved uneasily in his seat.
“The do puzzle me!” repeated Sally. “Here the are layin' right along as reg'lar as summer-time, and never cluckin' or lettin' on a bit, and the queerest thing is they jist lay three eggs every day. It don't seem natural!”
That night Pap put four eggs in the nests. The next night he put in five, and the next night three, and the danger into which his wiles had fallen was averted.