“Oh, I didn’t mean now—I meant that the pigs might eat the tops while we eat the bottoms. Turnips, beets, and such,” explained Janet.
“That’s different. But remember, Jan! My vegetables mean as much to me, and cost my spending money, too, as your stock does to you. So don’t send your cattle over into my preserves to feast; because I’ll shoot the first poacher I see in my garden,” threatened Natalie. But it never dawned upon her mind that the fowl had already poached.
As the two friends approached the house they heard Rachel complaining to Mrs. James. “Dese aigs what we got f’om Four Corners ain’t fresh a bit. Why, I foun’ two bad ones in dat udder box and now here’s anudder one in dis new box.”
Mrs. James took the box and examined the shells keenly. Then she said: “Rachel, they look like old preserved eggs.”
“Yas’m. Dat’s what I say. In fack, I mought say dey is been pickled down in water-glass at some remote day,” remarked Rachel.
“I’m afraid so, Rachel. Tompkins should not sell such eggs for fresh ones,” and Mrs. James shook her head disapprovingly.
“Dat las’ box we got f’om him, I spiled a good cake when I cracked an egg inter two more what I had in a bowl. An’ dat las’ one what Natty and Janet lef’ after scramblin’ dem udders on a sly, dat was a bad one, too.”
Janet and Natalie exchanged looks at this information, but the word “water-glass” meant nothing to them so they forgot Rachel’s complaints over the quality of the store-eggs.
The supper was very late that night, owing to the bad eggs that had ruined the batter Rachel had mixed for cakes. That evening the girls planned eagerly with Mrs. James about adding other interesting creatures to Janet’s farm yard stock. But it always ended in Janet’s sighing about her limited bank account.
“We might ask Mr. Marvin to loan us fifty dollars and take a chattel mortgage on the stock,” said Mrs. James.