“Has Bertha shown you our chickens?” she asked, calmly.
“No,” he said, surprised at the question; “I hope she will.”
“Oh, no doubt. You know I am quite ignorant of agriculture. Have you ever been abroad?”
“No, I stick to my own country,” he replied; “it’s good enough for me.”
“I dare say it is,” said Miss Ley, looking to the ground. “Bertha must certainly show you our chickens. They interest me because they’re very like human beings—they’re so stupid.”
“I can’t get mine to lay at all at this time of year,” said Craddock.
“Of course I’m not an agriculturist,” repeated Miss Ley, “but chickens amuse me.”
Dr. Ramsay began to smile, and Bertha flushed angrily.
“You have never shown any interest in the chickens before, Aunt Polly.”
“Haven’t I, my dear? Don’t you remember last night I remarked how tough was that one we had for dinner?... How long have you known Bertha, Mr. Craddock?”