“What, my hen-house!” said he.
“The one that you used to have,” said Stuyvesant. “He said that you sold it to him.”
“So I did,” said Phonny, thoughtfully. As he said this, he laid down his saw, which he had just taken to hang upon a nail where it belonged, and ran off out of the shop.
He was in pursuit of Beechnut. He found him harnessing a horse into a wagon.
“Beechnut,” said he, “have you given Stuyvesant the charge of my hen-house?”
“I have offered it to him,” said Beechnut, “but he has not told me yet whether he accepted the offer or not.”
“You are going to let him have half the eggs if he takes care of the house and the hens?” inquired Phonny.
“One third of them,” said Beechnut.
“I did not know that you would do that,” said Phonny. “If I had known that you would be willing to let it out in that way, I should have wanted it myself.”