Kilo. Part 26

"Pshaw, now, Sally," he said, "you'd ought to have let me know you was out. You oughtn't to do that. Feed 'em plenty of it. They deserve it.

If you stop feedin' them they'll stop layin' pretty soon. The effect of that hen-food don't last more'n two weeks. No," he said thoughtfully, "ten days is the longest I ever knowed it to last 'em."

If Pap Briggs enjoyed his eggs for breakfast he enjoyed as fully the many laughs he had with Billings over the scheme, and Billing found it hard to keep his promised secrecy. It would be such a good story to tell. But Pap exhorted him daily, and he did not let the secret out.

One Sunday morning Pap came down to his breakfast and took his seat.

Sally brought his coffee and bacon. Then she brought him a plate of moistened toast.

"You've forgot the eggs, Sally," said Pap admonis.h.i.+ngly.

"They ain't none this morning," said Sally briefly.

Pap looked up and saw that her mouth was set very firmly.

"No eggs?" he asked tremulously.

"No," she said decidedly, "no eggs! I kin believe that hens lay eggs and don't cluck, and I kin believe that hens lay eggs all winter, and I kin believe that Plymouth Rock hens lay Leghorn eggs and Shanghai eggs and Banty eggs, Pap, but when hens begin layin' spoiled eggs I ain't no more faith in hens."

Pap laid down his knife and fork.

"Spoiled eggs!" he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.

"Yes, spoiled eggs," she declared. "You and Billings ought to be more careful."

Pap turned his bacon over and eyed it critically. Then he frowned at it.

Then he chuckled.

"You needn't laugh," said Miss Sally severely. "You don't get no more eggs until the hens begin laying regular. You can eat moistened toast.

You ain't fair to me, pa. You set up to say who I shall marry, when I'm old enough to know for myself, and then you go and cheat me about eggs.

Mebby I ain't old enough to know who to marry, but I'm old enough to run this house for you, and you don't get no more eggs. No more eggs until spring, or until I can marry who I want to."

Pap looked at the mushy piece of toast and grinned sheepishly.

"You'd be worse of 'n ever, Sally," he said meekly, "if so be you married a man that felt he had to hev eggs every morning. They'd be two of us then."

"Well, Id just have to buy eggs then," she said, "if that come to pa.s.s.

I couldn't expect these few hens to lay enough eggs in winter for two men. If I had to buy eggs for a husband, I'd buy them."

The old man ate his toast slowly and without relish.

"Sally," he said that afternoon, "I guess mebby you'd better git married. I'm gittin' old. You'd better marry that book agent whilst you got a chance."

It was Pap Briggs who urged an early date, after that, and who was most joyous at the wedding.

"Pap," asked Sally one morning soon after she and Eliph' were married, while the three were sitting at breakfast, "what ever made you swing round so sudden and want me to marry Eliph', after objectin' so long?"

Her father looked at Eliph' slyly and chuckled.

"Eggs," he said. "I fooled you that time, Sally. I knowed when I said to go ahead that Eliph' has to have eggs for breakfast. Doc Weaver told me so."