"No? That is queer," continued the doctor, "when I took so much extra pains with 'em."
"Extra pains—how?"
"Why, I boiled every one of 'em, the last thing before I sent 'em down to you!"
And so he did. Tom grinned, squirmed, and went home,—but that wasn't the last of this joke.
Six months afterwards, the keen-witted doctor visited the lawyer's little place, where he saw a magnificent large Bucks County rooster stalking about in the latter's yard.
"By Jove, Tom! That's a rouser," exclaimed the doctor, enthusiastically, "'pon my word! Where d'you get him?"
"Pennsylvania—Buxton's; a fine fellow that. Only eight months old."
"Will you sell him?"
"Yes—no; I reckon not, on the whole."
"I'll give you an X for him."