"If you'll look after the incubator for us, Edith, it'll save me a lot of time—particularly now when we want to start work on the new cow barn."
"Will you let me run it all myself, Bob?" she asked, her eyes sparkling in anticipation.
"I don't see why you can't do it all yourself. You understand it just as well as I do; besides, I've had no actual experience myself."
They carefully filled the incubator with the eggs, making a record in a special book of the different breeds and the different breeders.
"How are you going to mark them, Bob, to tell them apart?" asked
Edith.
"Oh, that's easy," said Bob. "You punch small holes between their toes and make a code of the marks, so you can tell which is which.
"You can make ever so many combinations."
"Doesn't that hurt them?" asked Edith.
"No, not if it's done when they are very young—though the hole is a very small one, it never closes up, and you can always tell, by referring to your code, the age and breed of each chick. Later, of course, when they grow up, we'll put numbered aluminum bands on their legs, but when they're small the holes are better.
"Just think, Bob, five hundred little chicks for me to look after.
Won't it be perfectly splendid?"