“O, they are all gone now,” said Joanna. “They have gradually got burnt up, and rotted out; and now it is all a smooth, green field.”
“O, what a pity!” said Lucy. “And an’t there any more stumps anywhere?”
“Yes, in the woods, and upon the new fields. You see, when they cut down trees, they leave the stumps in the ground; and pretty soon they begin to rot; and they rot more and more, until, at last, they tumble all to pieces; and then they pile up the pieces in heaps, and burn them. Then the ground is all smooth and clear. So I used to build fires in the stumps as long as they lasted. One day my hen laid her eggs in a stump.”
“Your hen?” said Lucy; “did you have a hen?”
“Yes,” replied Joanna; “when I was a little older than you are, my father gave me a little yellow chicken, that was peeping, with the rest, about the yard. I used to feed her, every day, with crumbs. After a time, she grew up to be a large hen, and laid eggs. My father said that I might have all the eggs too. I used to sell them, and save the money.”
“How much money did you get?” asked Lucy.
“O, considerable. After a time, you see, I let my hen sit, and hatch some chickens.”
“Sit?” said Lucy.
“Yes; you see, after hens have laid a good many eggs, they sit upon them, to keep them warm, for two or three weeks; and, while they keep them warm, a little chicken begins to grow in every egg, and at length, after they grow strong enough, they break through the eggs and come out. So I got eleven chickens from my hen, after a time.”
“Eleven?” repeated Lucy; “were there just eleven?”