Ruth and the others knew by this time, of course, the nature of the eggs. But it was much fun to keep up the joke as long as Agnes, who was usually so bright, did not see through it. She said to Neale:
“Can’t you take me to the hen-run and let me see your flock of biddies? I know they must be trick hens, and I’d like to see them.”
“Ahem!” murmured Neale thoughtfully. “You want to look a gift egg in the mouth, do you?”
“No. I want to look these hens in the beak,” declared Agnes.
“And you can do that, by ginger!” crowed Luke, suddenly falling over on the sand in a paroxysm of laughter.
“‘Look ’em in the beak’ is good!” ejaculated Neale. “Yes, you may do that, Aggie. But—let me think——”
“Don’t think if it is going to strain anything,” said Agnes scornfully.
“There is only one time in the whole twenty-four hours when you can be sure of doing that,” continued Neale O’Neil, with perfect soberness.
“For goodness’ sake!” exclaimed his girl friend. “Now you are carrying the thing too far. Only one hour in the twenty-four when the hen that laid these eggs is to be seen?”
“You have put it pretty near right,” declared Neale. “Isn’t that so, Mr. Howbridge?”