"What?" asked the ever-ready Willy.
"Pour some ice water over 'em. That'll cool 'em nicely."
They travelled up the cellar stairs to the "cooler," which stood in the hall.
"Wish we had a pitcher," said Janet. "You take the tum'ler, and I'll get a dipper."
It required several journeys to and fro to sufficiently cool the eggs, according to their way of thinking, but at last it was accomplished, with much dripping of water and splashing of clean clothes.
The water-cooler was left empty, and the incubator was in a state of dampness alarming to behold.
"There; I guess it's cool enough now!" said Janet, when the last trip had been taken.
Alas, the mercury, which should have remained at 103°, had dropped quietly down to 70°.
"I'd like to see what's in those eggs," said Willy, meditatively. "D'yer s'pose they're chickies yet?"
"I guess so. I'd like to see, too. I'll tell you what, Willy? Let's take one, and carry it off and see."