A pretty girl in the train had some chirping chickens about ten days’ old
in a box labelled “German egg powders. One packet equal to six eggs.” A
sailor boy got in at Basingstoke, a quiet, reserved youth, well behaved
and unusually good-looking. By and by the chickens were taken out of the
box and fed with biscuit on the carriage seat. This thawed the boy who,
though he fought against it for some lime, yielded to irresistible
fascination and said:
“What are they?”
“Chickens,” said the girl.
“Will they grow bigger?”
“Yes.”
Then the boy said with an expression of infinite wonder: “And did you
hatch them from they powders?”
We all laughed till the boy blushed and I was very sorry for him. If we
had said they had been hatched from the powders he would have certainly
believed us.