“‘Now, Huldy,’ says the parson, ‘you must be sure to save the turkey eggs, so that we can have a lot of turkeys for Thanksgiving.’
“‘Yes, sir,’ says Huldy; and she opened the pantry-door, and showed him a nice dishful she’d been a savin’ up. Wal, the very next day the parson’s hen-turkey was found killed up to old Jim Scroggs’s barn. Folks say Scroggs killed it; though Scroggs, he stood to it he didn’t; at any rate, the Scroggses, they made a meal on’t, and Huldy, she felt bad about it ’cause she’d set her heart on raisin’ the turkeys; and says she, ‘Oh, dear! I don’t know what I shall do, I was just ready to set her.’
“‘Do, Huldy?’ says the parson: ‘why, there’s the other turkey, out there by the door; and a fine bird, too, he is.’
“Sure enough, there was the old tom-turkey a-struttin’ and a-sidlin’, and a-quitterin’, and a-floutin’ his tail feathers in the sun, like a lively young widower, all ready to begin life over again.
“‘But,’ says Huldy, ‘you know he can’t set on eggs.’
“‘He can’t? I’d like to know why,’ says the parson. ‘He shall set on eggs, and hatch ’em too.’
“‘Oh, doctor!’ says Huldy, all in a tremble; ’cause, you know, she didn’t want to contradict the minister, and she was afraid she should laugh—‘I never heard that a tom-turkey would set on eggs.’
“SHE FOUND OLD TOM A-SKIRMISHIN’ WITH THE PARSON.”
“‘Why, they ought to,’ said the parson, getting quite ’arnest. ‘What else be they good for? You just bring out the eggs, now, and put ’em in the nest, and I’ll make him set on ’em.’