Judy did not pretend to dislike men.
“That’s rather a dreadful thought,” said she.
Tea arrived at this point, and Noel proceeded to make absurd conversation with Dawson, who had known the brother and sister from babyhood. Absurd, at least, on his part, but perfectly serious on hers. She always asked him how his arm was, meaning, presumably, the place where they took it off.
“Splendid, thanks, Dawes,” he replied. “They’re going to give me a new one soon, I’m glad to say. They make wonderful artificial limbs now, that can do most anything.”
“So they tell me, Mr. Noel,” said Dawson, arranging the tea things.
“For instance,” he went on, “the one I’m going to have knows all about raising chickens. It’s trained specially. I’m thinking of going in for chicken farming, you know.”
“Is that a fact, Mr. Noel?” breathed Dawson.
“Oh, yes,” went on the deceiver of women. “You see, I don’t know a thing about chickens, and all I’ll have to do will be just to follow my arm about, so to speak. It can tell the age of a pullet to a day, just by pulling its leg. That’s why they call a young hen a pullet, you know. As for eggs, it can find ’em anywhere. It doesn’t matter how cleverly the old hens hide them, this arm of mine can smell ’em out as quick as winking.”
Dawson gaped with astonishment.
“I never would have believed it, would you, m’lady?” exclaimed the dear old London-bred soul. ”They do invent wonderful things these days, don’t they now?”