"So I know how you'd feel," Wally finished.
"I might—but my hens weren't cannibals. They didn't eat any."
"You had luck," said the unabashed Wally. "Well, what happened?"
"They sat quite nicely—"
"And the eggs were addled, weren't they? It's always the way with half these swagger sittings you buy from dealers. They—"
"Oh, Wally, I WISH you wouldn't be so intelligent!" said Norah, with not unnatural heat. "How am I ever going to tell you?"
"Why, I thought you were telling me as hard as ever you could!" Wally responded, visibly indignant "Well, fire away; I won't speak another word!"
"I don't think you could help it," Norah laughed. "However, I'd eight hens sitting, and I really do believe that they understood their responsibilities, for they set as if they were glued, except when they came off for necessary exercise and refreshment. Even then, they never gave me any of the usual bother about refusing to go back into the right box, or scratching the eggs out. They behaved like perfect ladies—I might have known it was too bright to last!" She heaved a sigh.
"I know you're working up to some horrible tragedy, and I'm sure I won't be able to bear it!" said her hearer, much agitated. "Tell me the worst!"
"So they sat—"