“There’s the thing now! Then you never guessed, hey? Is it possible you never heard the story of the goose with the golden egg?”
“To be sure,” replied Goody, opening her eyes wider than ever; “to be sure I have, to be sure, Mr. Bob—to be sure. But your hen, you know, is not a goose.”
“That is very true, Mrs. Brown; but here is another question. If a goose can lay a golden egg, why can’t a hen lay a silver one?”
“Sure enough, Mr. Lee, sure enough, sure enough,” said the old woman, beginning to get some light on the subject.
“Sure enough, as you say. Now this black hen of mine—every day I go to the nest and find a silver dollar there!”
“You amaze me, Bob!” said she, in the greatest astonishment. “Who would have thought it! Indeed! indeed! indeed! and is it true?”
“Why, Mrs. Brown, if I do not get them there, where do I get them?”
“Sure enough. Well, my stars! I almost knew it—I always thought there was something strange in the looks of that black hen.”
“Ah, you are a cunning woman—but be sure you keep it a secret.”
“To be sure, never fear me. A dollar a day! Who would have thought it! Bless me, what a lucky man! Do, Mr. Lee, let me see the nest; it must be very curious: I am dying to see it.”