“Yes,” he continued, repeating the words he had already said, “it was through the poultry that I grew to recognise the wisdom of God. You must make what you can of that.”
There was a short silence.
“And do poultry have souls?” inquired one of the silhouettes, in a tone of evident irony. The poultry-farmer hesitated a moment, then, as it were, gave himself a little shake, plucked up his courage, and growled, in a deep bass—
“They do!”
“What! Hens have souls?”
“Yes, sir.”
This answer was evidently given in blind recklessness, and the poultry-farmer, seeing that he could no longer draw back, continued loudly and rapidly—
“I tell you, positively, I would swear it before the Lord Himself—fowls do have souls, may I die to-night if they don’t! There!”
Silence.
“They do!” cried the poultry-farmer again.