“And when she got to be a good sized pullet and I was lookin’ for her to begin to lay pretty quick, I declare if she didn’t hop up into my lap and lay her first egg.”
“My!” exclaimed Dorothy, in appreciative wonder.
“I left my flock in the care of my next door neighbor; but I knowed Ophelia would be lonesome for me.
“So,” concluded the little old lady, “I’m a-takin’ her through unbeknownst to the conductor. Don’t you tell! And now—there!”
She thrust her hand under one flap of the covered basket. There was a little rustling sound, a seemingly objecting croak, and out came the old lady’s hand with a white, clean and warm egg.
“I expect she’s gettin’ sort of broody,” said Mrs. Petterby, dropping the egg into Dorothy’s hand. “She’s beginnin’ to think of settin’ an’ tryin’ to raise a famb’ly. That’s all she knows about it—poor thing!
“Well, there’s your aunt’s egg, child.”
CHAPTER VI
“THE BREATH OF THE NIGHT”
The girls and Mrs. White’s sons were vastly amused by the egg incident. Aunt Winnie thankfully drank her egg and milk, but her boys joked about the production of “Ophelia” being so quickly “swallowed up.”