“Well, she won't never miss two or three eggs,” coaxed Jimmy. “How many did she put under the old hen?”
“She put fifteen,” was the response, “an' I don't believe she'd want me to tech 'em.”
“They 're 'bout the prettiest eggs ever was,” continued the tempter, “all blue and pink and green, and 'bout a million kinds. They're just perzactly like rabbit's eggs.”
“Me an' Wilkes Booth Lincoln ain't never hear teller no rabbit's eggs sence we's born,” said Billy; “I don't berlieve rabbits lays eggs nohow.”
“They don' lay 'em 'cept to Easter,” said Jimmy. “Miss Cecilia 'splained it all to me and she's my Sunday-School teacher and rabbits is bound to lay eggs 'cause it's in the Bible and she's 'bout the prettiest 'splainer they is. I'm going over there now to see 'bout my eggs,” and he made believe to leave the swing.
“Le's us slip roun' to the hen-house an' see what the of hen's a-doin',” suggested the sorely tempted Billy. “Aunt Minerva is a-makin' me some nightshirts an' she ain't takin' no notice of nothin' else.”
They tiptoed stealthily around the house to the back-yard, but found the hen-house door locked.
“Can't you get the key?” asked the younger child.
“Naw, I can't,” replied the other boy, “but you can git in th'oo this-here little hole what the chickens goes in at, whiles I watches fer Aunt Minerva. I'll stand right here an' hol' my cap whiles you fetches me the eggs. An' don't you take more 'n five or six,” he warned.
“I'm skeered of the old hen,” objected Jimmy. “Is she much of a pecker?”