TELLS OF BEES AND BUGS
They had not gone more than half the distance to Green Hill Farm
before Belle called their attention to a man who was hiving a swarm of
honeybees.
“I wonder if bees are hard to keep?” said Belle.
“Not very, and they are the most interesting of all domestic
farm-life,” returned Miss Mason.
“How do you know that?” asked Janet, eagerly.
“We watched a bee-farmer in the country, one summer, and the stories
he told of his bees, and the intelligence they manifested, won my
admiration of them. I’ve always wanted to try a few hives and see if I
could make friends with them and raise a bee family.”
“There is something in the scout book about bees,” reminded Natalie.
“Yes, you can win a badge by passing the test. But it is not that, so
much, as the fact that you have a fine farm and plenty of room for
bees. It is a shame not to have them,” said Miss Mason.
When the car drove in at the side-gate, the girls found the scouts
from Solomon’s Seal Camp waiting on the porch for news of the
adventure. With them sat Dorothy Ames, Nancy Sherman, and Hester
Tompkins. Their interest in the day’s trip proved their interest in
the corporation with one cow for an asset.
There was wild rejoicing when it was learned that a fine little cow
with the name of Sue, was purchased and would come to Green Hill on
Saturday to live. Then they heard about the little calf which Janet
claimed for herself. Planning for the comfort of the cow and calf
continued until Rachel came out to say: “Stead of doing so much
talkin’ why don’ you-all go to the barns and ack on your idees. Dat
cow-shed what’s there now ain’t fit fer nuttin!”
Laughing at this practical admonition from Rachel, the troop of girls
went to the barn to consult with Sam about making a nice new shed for
Corporation Sue.
The next morning the girls from the house visited the scouts at the
camp to discuss further the idea of keeping bees. Miss Mason got out
the handbook and turned to the page where it speaks of bee-keeping.
She read aloud:
1—What constitutes a swarm of bees? How do they live? Tell how
honey is gathered and stored and honeycomb is built, and what
part the queen, drones, workers, play in the life of the colony.
2—Be able to recognize and describe each of the following:
queen, drones, workers, eggs, larvae, pupae, honey, bee-food,
wax, pollen, propolis, brood-nest, comb, different queen cells.
3—Have a practical knowledge of bee-keeping and assist in
hiving a swarm examining a colony, removing the combs, finding
the queen, putting foundation in sections, filling in and
removing supers, and preparing honey in comb, and strained for
market, and present a certificate to this effect.
4—Know which flowers afford the best food for bees and how
honey varies according to the flowers in color and flavor.
“Now, girls,” concluded Miss Mason, “I suggest that Janet have first
choice to decide whether she wishes to start a bee colony, or whether
she waives her right as the stock-farmer scout and prefers to join us
in keeping bees.”
“Oh, I hadn’t thought of bees, Miss Mason. I’ll have so much to do
after Susy comes, with all the rest of my live-stock, that taking care
of bees will be out of the question,” said Janet.
“Then we can add another asset to our scout corporation and get some
bees to start a colony, eh?” ventured Miss Mason.
“Isn’t it rather late in the season to start bees?” asked Natalie.
“Not too late to secure a hive of some one else’s bees. What
difference does it make whether the bees are with us or with some one
else?” said Janet.
“I don’t know exactly, but I’ve heard that bees hate to be moved
about,” returned Natalie.
Then Mrs. James explained: “Bees are very sensitive to environment.
And a careful bee-farmer will not move his hives to any strange
locality after the inmates are accustomed to certain familiar
surroundings. If he has to do any moving he manages to do it in
winter, or when the bees swarm.”
“I’ve seen a colony of bees disintegrate and leave home to become
tramp-bees, or join other colonies—although the latter act is not
common or popular with bees. They are very conservative and seldom
associate with bees of other colonies,” added Miss Mason.
“Then how would it be possible for us to get the bees?” asked Norma.
“We would have to secure a swarm which has not yet been accustomed to
an environment, but one which will accept a new home without wandering
away looking for the old hive,” said Mrs. James.
“Yes, that is what I was going to suggest—that we find a new swarm,
nearby, and bring it to the farm to live,” added Miss Mason.
“Mrs. Tompkins has bees and they just love her flower-garden,” said
Norma.
“Maybe Mrs. Tompkins can tell us if she expects a new swarm very
shortly. Or she may know of a farmer who has just hived a swarm,”
suggested Natalie, eagerly.
“I say, let’s decide where we will stand the bee-hives when we get
them,” said Janet, practically.
“We can walk over to the gardens and look for a sunny sheltered spot,”
ventured Miss Mason.
“And we can authorize Frances to find out from Mrs. Tompkins whether
she has any swarms, or knows of one that can be purchased by us,”
added Belle.
So they all started for the gardens to decide upon a suitable place to
keep the bee-hives should they be able to buy any. It did not take
long to choose the spot along the fence that divided the garden from
the pasture lot. There was a row of fruit trees in a line alongside
this fence, and they would not only offer the shade from a burning sun
in summer, but also provide nectar and pollen in the spring when the
blossoms were blowing, and they also afforded resting-places for
home-coming laden bees, or for swarms which might wish to locate near
the hive.
Being so near the vegetable gardens, Miss Mason suggested that Natalie
show them how her gardens were doing. Always glad to display her
knowledge and experience in gardening, Natalie led the way.
The first bed they reached held the lettuce plants discarded by Mr.
Ames and left for Natalie to transplant. They had flourished in spite
of the interference from Janet’s chickens, and now they looked very
green and tempting.
“The lettuce is large enough to pull whenever Jimmy says we need any
at the house,” remarked Natalie, proudly.
“Oh, hardly! I should say it would need another week’s growth,
Natalie, before being worth pulling,” said Mrs. James.
“We—ll, maybe it will take until Sunday, but surely it will be ready
then,” was Natalie’s reluctant admission.
The girls praised the lima beans, and the dwarf beans, and the beets,
and all the other growing greens, but truth to tell they knew not one
vegetable from another until Natalie or Mrs. James pointed them out by
name.
Then they came to the potato hills. The curly-topped little plants
looked very pretty in their dark green ruffled leaves. Natalie was
delighted with them and began describing how the seed of a potato was
obtained. In following Natalie’s motions at the hills, Mrs. James saw
something on one of the leaves of the plant just beside her. She
stooped and plucked off the bug.
“Here’s a potato bug, Natalie. You’ll have to protect your vines from
the beetle that is so destructive.”
At that, Natalie stooped too, and examined several leaves, and the
rest of the scouts looked eagerly for the beetles. They found many of
the pests on the under side of the leaves, busily at work feeding on
the tender greens.
“The horrid little things! What can I do to them?” cried Natalie,
horrified at seeing so many bugs.
“You must kill them or they’ll eat all the leaves which are the only
sources of light and fresh air provided for the tiny tubers already
forming under the surface of the ground. These Colorado beetles lay
eggs on the underside of the leaves and these soon hatch out
additional bugs so that very soon the entire field is infested with
them. The time to get rid of them is when the potato plants are still
very small, as these are,” explained Mrs. James.
“Dear me, Jimmy, I can’t bear to touch them, so how can I ever kill
them all?” Natalie shuddered as she spoke.
“We’ll have to order some Paris Green from Four Corners and prepare a
solution to cover the leaves. It can be applied with a squirt-gun, and
it is quite simple to do.”
“I’ll go with Frances at once, and bring back the stuff,” was
Natalie’s emphatic declaration.
The girls then left the gardens and Frances went to get out the car to
drive to Four Corners. Meantime, Janet went to the barn yard with a
few of the girls, to have a look at the fowl and pigs. While she was
there, Janet took a peep in the nests and found two more eggs.
“Isn’t this great! The hens are laying splendidly now, and I am
keeping the house provided with fresh eggs every day,” said she,
exultantly.
Then they went to the house, Janet carrying a precious egg in each
hand. As she came up to the back stoop she saw Rachel in the kitchen
and called to her.
“Look, Rachel! Two more eggs. Isn’t that fine?”
Rachel came out on the stoop and smiled: “It shore am, honey. Putty
soon you’ll have two dozen to your credit on my books.”
“Well, I guess I’m ’most through with my trials and tribulations now,
but poor Nat’s have begun again,” remarked Janet.
“Oh, shucks! All pertatters has bugs. Dat’s no trouble atall.
Nat’lie’ll learn some day dat gardenin’ ain’t all fun,” laughed
Rachel, as she took the two eggs.
“Natalie’s going to powder them with Paris Green. Is it good for bugs,
Rachel?” asked Norma.
“Yeh, best pizen I know of but I done tol Natalie dat it ain’t no good
to use at evenin’ or late afternoon. It’s got to be squirted over the
leaves when dey is fresh and dewy. Den the powder cakes on and
smudders all the eggs and hatchin’ bugs. And it keeps the big fellers
f’om flyin’ and gettin’ any more to eat. Dey jus’ has to die.”
Sam come up to the stoop at this moment and added his wisdom to that
already expressed by his aunt. “I usta fix up tomater cans last summer
on a farm, and we filled ’em half full of kerosene. Den wid little
sticks to knock the bugs offen the plants we got dem inside the cans.
The ile did the rest for us.”
“Sam, that’s a good idea! If you could fix up some cans for us now,
we’d go to work and help drown the bugs,” said Janet.
“It won’t take a minute to rig up the cans,” said Sam.
So he went to the dump-heap back of the woodshed and picked out a
number of old cans. He nailed them to long flat sticks and then
brought them back to the house to give to the girls who had offered
their services to save Natalie’s potatoes.
They had equipped themselves with sticks to use as removers of the
beetles, and when they were ready to start for the garden, Janet said:
“But where is the kerosene oil, Sam?”
Sam looked up at his aunt and said: “Where is the ile?”
“I ain’t got no ile, son. I doesn’t use ile for ennyt’ng nohow. You’se
will have to get some at Fo’h Cornehs.”
But that would take as long to get back to the house as the powder was
taking, so the girls placed their novel beetle removers under the
steps of the stoop to use at some future time.
It was almost supper time when Natalie returned with the Paris Green
and instructions from Mr. Tompkins of how to use it. She also had
procured a sprayer to use when the Paris Green was prepared for use.
Before retiring that night Natalie warned Rachel that she was not to
allow her to oversleep in the morning. “I want to get up at dawn,
Rachie, because the bugs will eat more poison in the early morning
than later in the day. And I must clean off my darling little potato
vines, you see.”
“Yeh, I see, honey I’ll git up and he’p you some,” promised Rachel as
she went upstairs.
Janet was telling about the eggs her hens were now laying, so Rachel
chuckled to herself as she left Natalie. When the latter went back to
join her friends, Mrs. James was explaining why hens seldom laid as
many eggs in rainy weather. She said it was accounted for by some
scientists because the earth was damp and the hens could not scratch
readily in it.
“That’s why I scattered broken clam-shells in the yard to make the
scratching better,” said Janet.
They laughed at this remark, and Mrs. James led the way upstairs to
bed. The following morning Natalie was called an hour before
breakfast. She hurriedly donned her garden overalls and ran down to
the cellar for the Paris Green. Unfortunately, Rachel found her bread
dough risen and running over the sides of the pan, so that she had to
knead it into the pans before doing anything else.
By the time Natalie had the Paris Green mixed and ready to apply to
the vines, Janet and Norma came downstairs to help her. They carried
the bucket of poison to the garden and Natalie filled the gun. Then,
while one of the girls turned the leaves over, Natalie squirted them
thickly with the preparation. The other girl carried the pail of
poison as they went from plant to plant.
“This isn’t such hard work, is it?” commented Natalie.
“No, not hard but not very exciting, either,” laughed Norma, who
sneezed every time any of the mixture reached her nose.
“We ought to finish the whole potato section before Rach calls us to
breakfast,” added Janet.
And so they did. When the work was completed and they stood looking
over the hills where tiny green leaves had so recently shown, they now
saw the crinkly-edged vines looking like dull blanketed things, they
were so heavily laden with Paris Green.
Natalie turned about, gazing at the other vegetables, and Janet
laughingly remarked: “Are you looking for ‘more world’s to conquer?’”
“I’m looking at those corn hills where some of the bugs alighted when
they got away from us,” said she.
“Well, do you want to dose them, too?” asked Norma.
“We may as well. Then they won’t go on raising families,” replied
Natalie. So Paris Green was liberally shot all over the plants
wherever a bug was found. Then the girls went back to the house.
“We’ve still got a little poison left, Nat,” said Janet.
“Oh, I think I’ll use it my heliotrope and early asters. I noticed
yesterday that they were covered with lice,” remarked Norma.
“All right. You show me where to shoot and we’ll cover the pests with
the poison,” offered Natalie.
So Norma held the plants steady while Paris Green was literally piled
on top of the crowns and over all the leaves. Then the preparation
gave out and the girls had to desist from further work.
Directly after breakfast, Janet was seen coming from the barn yard and
with an egg in each hand. She seemed perplexed and when she reached
the kitchen stoop she saw the girls watching her.
“This is the queerest thing, yet,” said she.
“What is?” asked several of the girls.
“Why, just before going in to breakfast I ran over to the chicken-coop
to see if the hens had laid any eggs and there wasn’t a thing to be
seen. They were all out in the yard eating corn. Then after breakfast
I had to go back to feed the setting-hen and there I found an egg in
each nest. And they are not warm.”
“I don’t think that is strange,” answered Belle. “It doesn’t take a
hen very long to lay an egg, you know.”
“No, that is true,” admitted Janet, twisting herself in such a manner
that the girls laughed and wondered what she meant.
The girls then went to the side-porch to plan for Sue, but Janet could
not sit still. She squirmed and hunched her shoulders in such a way
that Natalie finally noticed it and cried:
“Good gracious, Janet! Why don’t you sit still?”
“Yes, Jan, what ails you? Are you nervous?” asked Norma.
“I don’t know what it is, girls, but I have never been in such misery.
It must be prickly heat, I guess,” said Janet.
“Go upstairs and use talcum powder profusely,” suggested Belle,
“before we start for Four Corners to see about the bees.”
Janet followed this advice and was comfortable for a short time after
she rejoined the girls, but then the irritation of the skin began
again and she wriggled worse than ever. All the way to Mrs. Tompkins’
house Janet said nothing but did a lot of acting.
Mrs. Tompkins showed her visitors her bee hives and gave them a great
deal of useful information about the keeping of bees, then she said:
“I’ve been looking for one of my hives to have a swarm every warm day
we’ve had, lately, but they still keep on scolding and hanging around,
so I imagine they are waiting for a sultry day which will foretell a
good electrical storm. You know, bees like to swarm just before a
thunder shower?”
The girls did not know this and were curious to know why it was, and
Mrs. Tompkins replied that she figured it out her own way, but she had
never heard the scientific reason for it.
“I watch the queen-bee and see how clever she is in her plans and
movements, then I watch her train the tiny princess bees until they
are large enough to start housekeeping for themselves, then I watch
and see the queen-bee make her selections from all the workers and
drones in the family, and she inspires them with a keen desire to move
out of the old hive and find a new home. As the queen bee is the
monarch in the hive, they follow and do exactly as she orders them to.
She is constantly surrounded by loving guardians and it is impossible
for her to ever fly away alone, or have any privacy.
“But she is a wise bee and knows that her workers hate a thunderstorm.
A bee seldom flies far from home when rain or an electrical storm is
threatened. So the queen bides her time, and when she can foretell a
thunder storm hovering near, she starts the swarm going.
“First she manages to escape from her guardians and get out on the
running-board of the hive, but her followers are close upon her heels.
When she flies up to find a resting place they are close behind.
Sometimes she manages to get some distance from the hive before she is
overwhelmed with pursuers and brought to a full stop on a tree, or
bush, or fence. It generally happens to be on the lower limb of a
tree, and it happens more often that the swarm settles near the old
hive.
“Once the queen settles on a resting-place all the other bees gather
closely around her to prevent her escaping again. They fear she wants
to run away from home, so they close in until the poor thing almost
smothers. The bees will clasp their antennae through the hooked
back-leg of the bee nearest them, and thus form a chain that keeps
growing and circling about the cluster around the queen. Sometimes
this swarm is so heavy that it falls from sheer weight. But generally
the bees hanging on to the bough increase in numbers in order to hold
safely aloft the hanging swarm.
“Once the swarm is large enough, it is best for the bee-farmer to
gather it into a hive. This is when he beats a drum or a tin pan to
imitate thunder. That always frightens the bees and the queen readily
leads them into a new home. If a real thunderstorm overtakes the swarm
and rain falls heavily before the farmer has gathered the bees into a
shelter, he has lost them. For they will scatter and the queen will
fly away never to return to the old home.
“Or she may try to re-enter her own old hive and be stung to death by
the young queen and her subjects who are now ruling the place. In
cases where a princess-queen leaves home to start a swarm, the swarm
is never as large or difficult to manage, as the young queen seldom
has as many devoted subjects to follow her as an old queen has.”
“Oh, how interesting, Mrs. Tompkins,” exclaimed Janet.
“Yes, we will be glad to have some bees and watch them work,” added
Norma.
“If my bees swarm within the next few days I shall be glad to sell it
to you. I’ll send word and you can come and get it,” said Mrs.
Tompkins, generously.
“How fine! But how do we carry a swarm home?” asked Natalie.
“In your farmer’s hat!” retorted Janet, laughingly.
“Oh, you won’t have to worry over that. I’ll hive the swarm and send
the hive right to the farm,” replied Mrs. Tompkins. “But you must be
careful to locate them pleasantly, or they may wander off. Bees like
plenty of flowers nearby, and the freedom of the fields, yet they want
to hear human voices and be able to see their master going about, even
if they seldom come in contact with him. They seem to feel secure and
safe when living in the shadow of a home.”
“I wish we could drive Mrs. Tompkins home and let her choose a site
for our bee-hives,” ventured Natalie.
“Could you come with us, Mrs. Tompkins?” asked Mrs. James.
“I can manage to get away from home for an hour, but no longer, girls.
If Frances can bring me back again, I’ll go with you,” replied the
obliging lady.
All the way back to Green Hill, Janet squirmed and scratched her neck
and bare arms until the skin was raw. Mrs. Tompkins asked Mrs. James
about it
“Do you s’pose Janet got poison ivy on her and the rash is just
showing?” asked she.
“I hadn’t thought of poison ivy,” returned Mrs. James, “but it is
something. And the poor child is wretched. What can be done for her?”
“Whatever it is, a little baking soda in water will cool her burning
skin and leave her comfortable for a time. But she will have to keep
on using it for any continued ease.”
Arrived at the house, Rachel was told to give Janet the baking soda,
and then Janet went upstairs to dab herself with the wash while Mrs.
Tompkins led all the other girls about the gardens seeking the place
for the bees to live. The place the girls had selected proved to be
the best and most practical. When they were coming back from the
field-fence, Janet met them and went with them while Natalie’s
vegetables were visited.
The garden scout had been telling Mrs. Tompkins how hard she had
worked that morning to kill the potato bugs, and when that lady saw
the plants she gasped, “Why Natalie, what did you do?”
“They look queer, don’t they? They were not so when I left them this
morning.”
Mrs. Tompkins stooped to examine a plant and looked up inquiringly at
Mrs. James, and asked: “How much Paris Green did she mix?”
Natalie answered. “Why, I mixed the lot of it. I was told how much to
use for the space I had to cover, but I thought an extra quantity
would surely kill them off quicker, so I used three times the amount
directed.”
“My dear child! I fear you have killed the plants as well as your
bugs,” sighed Mrs. Tompkins, sympathetically.
“Dear me, I hope I haven’t killed my heliotrope and asters, too!”
exclaimed Norma, running away to examine her flowers.
Natalie was stunned at the discovery that her precious potato plants
had been destroyed by her own carelessness. Norma found the asters too
sturdy to dry up under the deluge she had given them, but the
heliotrope was as dry as paper.
Both girls were inconsolable, until Mrs. Tompkins promised Norma new
flowers to plant, and Natalie was promised as many healthy potato
plants as had been killed.
“That’s awfully good of you, Mrs. Tompkins, but those potatoes won’t
be my very own darlings!” wailed Natalie.
“Well, you’ve done a good deed, child, because no bug will dare go
near that place again this year,” said Mrs. Tompkins, trying not to
laugh at Natalie’s sorrow which was very real to the girl.
“I can’t even feed them to my pigs, and I was looking forward to the
time when we could dig the potatoes for the pigs, right from the
garden,” murmured Janet, understanding Natalie’s grief.
“I will take a look at your wonderful little pigs, Janet, and then I
must hurry home,” remarked Mrs. Tompkins, hoping to change Natalie’s
thoughts to something else.
They all stood near the pig pen but Janet warned them not to lean on
it as it might fall over. Then Mrs. Tompkins spoke: “The pigs are
underfed, Janet, for their age. What do you feed ’em?”
Janet told of all the feed she gave them but Mrs. Tompkins replied:
“You do not give them sufficient milk. Little pigs must have more milk
than that. Si feeds our pigs the skim-milk which they like as much as
other milk.”
“That’s what I can do when the cow gets here, but milk costs too much,
now, to feed it to the pigs.” So saying Janet led the way over to the
chicken-house.
Since walking to the barn yard the itching had started to annoy her
again, so that when they came to the hen-house she was twisting and
wriggling as before. The chickens were out in the yard scratching for
food, while the cock stood upon a stump and showed off his plumes in
the sunlight. Janet felt a just pride in their looks.
“I’m getting from four to six eggs every day, now,” said she to the
visitor. “I shouldn’t wonder but there will be two or three in the
nests, now.” So saying she ran in and found three nice brown eggs.
“There you are! I told you so.” And she displayed them to the lady
with all the vanity of a successful chicken farmer.
“Did you just get them out of the nests?” asked Mrs. Tompkins. Janet
nodded her head smilingly.
“Have you any other hens besides those old ones?” added the visitor.
“No, only a setting hen. Want to see her? Come right in and tell me
what you think of her.”
Mrs. Tompkins followed Janet through the door but when she saw the
setting-hen trying to peck herself continually with her bill, and saw
that the feathers were all gone from her neck, then she saw another
hen on a roost, constantly scratching and picking under its feathers,
a light dawned upon her.
The lady went over to the roosts and looked carefully at them, then
she examined the boards of the sides and roof of the house, then she
looked at the nests. Finally she gathered her dress closely about her
and stepped forth.
“The place is alive with ’em!” declared she, once outdoors.
“Alive with what?” chorused the waiting hostesses.
“Why, with chicken-lice. Those hens won’t lay while they are being
eaten up with the pests.”
“Chicken-lice! Horrors, what are they like?” came from the girls, but
Mrs. James stood dumbfounded as she began to understand. Then she
exclaimed:
“Janet, it isn’t poison ivy that’s bothering you but the
chicken-pest!”
It was fully five minutes before the excitement quieted down again,
and Janet was told how easy a matter it was to rid oneself of the
nuisance. But Janet argued over Mrs. Tompkins’ statement that chickens
would not lay if they were too badly troubled with the lice. She held
up the eggs as evidence of what she said.
Then Mrs. Tompkins said sarcastically: “That Ames man had no right to
take you innocent girls in like he did. He must have known that
ancient old bird of his was no kind of a rooster to sell. And them
hens—well I know them to be six years old. They can’t lay eggs any
more, they’re too old.”
“Then I’ve got freak hens, for they lay every day!” persisted Janet.
Mrs. Tompkins was driven to speak outright now, so she said: “Are you
sure the eggs do not come from the house?”
This was a poser that no one could answer, so Janet was quiet. But
Mrs. James said: “What can we do to rid the chickens of the lice?”
“Well, first of all keep them out in the yard while the house, inside
and out, is being white-washed with good slacked lime. Then take each
chicken and give it an alcohol bath, being careful not to get it in
the eyes, or mouth, or ears.”
After a moment’s pause she added: “If they was my chickens I’d take
them all back to Ames and make him exchange ’em. He won’t dare let
this fake deal get out at Four Corners.”
Natalie and Janet had not said a word about the hens until Mrs.
Tompkins spoke about the “fake deal” but Janet knew it was her duty to
explain.
“Natalie and I picked out the rooster because he has such lovely
feathers, and we thought the big hens would lay the biggest eggs, so
we selected them for the same price.”
“Mr. Ames begged us to take Rhode Island Reds and another rooster, but
we wouldn’t,” added Natalie.
“He said the hens were old and wouldn’t give satisfaction, but we
thought he said that so we wouldn’t rob him of his finest big hens,”
explained Janet
As the truth about the bargain began to be understood, Mrs. Tompkins
and Mrs. James laughed heartily. But Janet whispered to Natalie: “I
wonder if he will exchange them now?”
“We’ll tell him right out that we need hens that will lay,” said
Natalie.
By this time they had reached the stoop of the house, and Janet
glanced down at the three brown eggs in her hands and then looked up
at Rachel who stood perplexed at the few words she had just overheard.
Mrs. James looked straight at her and said: “Rachel, how many eggs has
Janet sold you now?”
“About two dozen, Mis James, countin’ dese free.”
“Well, I’m wondering who is standing the expense, you or me, or the
house?”
“Why?” asked Janet, amazed at such a strange question.
Rachel gasped when she realized that she might have to pay Janet for
the eggs she bought from her and also pay the house for the eggs she
stole for the nests. But Sam joined them and said:
“Aunt Rachel tole me to put an egg or two in the nestes every day, but
I liked to see Mis Janet smile so I put in more and more. Dat’s how
she got so many from the pantry box.”
Such a roar greeted this confession that Rachel went in and slammed
the kitchen door, and Janet turned to throw the eggs at Sam, but he
had bolted.
“Never mind that, now, Janet, but come with me and let me help you get
rid of the chicken-lice,” said motherly Mrs. Tompkins. So Janet was
comforted in more ways than one before Mrs. Tompkins went home.