When I told Natalie, she laughed and said my investment would be a dead loss if I kept up that kind of treatment. So we both decided to go to the barn, as it is too spooky a place for one to wander in alone. Not that the hen would jump at us, and there is no other animal there, yet, but two is company, you know.
It was Natalie’s suggestion that we take the eggs with us and place them in the nest under the hen, while she ate her meal. We took the leavings from supper, and all the bad cherries that Rachel had thrown in the garbage pail, and filled a pan with them. We took twelve eggs from the pasteboard box in the pantry, although Mr. Ames said for us to place fifteen eggs under the hen at a time. Rachel only had thirteen left in the box that came from the store, and we thought we had best leave one in case she needed it for breakfast in the morning. Nat carried the pan of food and the flashlight, while I carefully carried the twelve eggs.
Oh, such a time as we had with that old scrapper of a hen! She fought us with bill and claws, and our hands and wrists are a sight! Finally Natalie almost squeezed the life out of her in trying to hold her out of the nest, and I managed to get seven of the dozen eggs in the straw for her to set upon. The other five were smashed in the fray. Maybe we were not glad when that job was over!
As it is not worth while taking the time to hatch but seven eggs, I am going to get another dozen from the store as soon as I have the money, and then I’ll add them to the other eggs already under the hen. I don’t suppose it makes any difference whether the chicks come out a few days late, or not. As long as they come—that is the main thing. The hen can’t tell when they were put in the nest, a few days late, or all on time. And all eggs look alike to her. That makes me think of the funny song: “All coons, etc.”
Tuesday A. M. Rachel gave us ham for breakfast. She said she could “a’swore” she had a few eggs left for an omelette but when she went to the pantry she found only one egg. Natalie and I kept very sober faces although we both wanted to shriek with laughter. Jimmy knew we had been up to something and when Rachel left the room, she turned and asked Nat what we were choking over.
Natalie giggled as she replied: “Janet and I scrambled those eggs last night. That’s why Rachel couldn’t find any this morning.”
We both roared, but we never said a word about the setting hen, as we intend a surprise for Mrs. James when the first chicks come out of the shells. It certainly will be a surprise! Before we finished breakfast, Rachel reappeared and said: “Dem pigs is yelling fit to kill themselves. Ef you don’t git ’em out of dat crate dis mawnin’, dey’ll die on you. The fust thing you do, dis mawnin’ is to nail up some slats fer a pen and dump ’em in so dey kin exercise. And don’t fergit a hearty breakfast fer ’em, too.”
“Well, my little diary, I am now going to build a pig pen and a chicken coop. I may not be able to give you another message for a time, but I will have every morning and every evening for this pleasant work.”
CHAPTER II
JANET TRIES CARPENTRY
There was so much to do, once Janet started in trying to keep fowl and other barn yard stock, that the poor diary was seldom remembered. Now and then, at long intervals, she jotted down items, merely as a salve to her conscience and to placate Helene, when the home-coming should reveal the truth that the diary had been sadly neglected.