mother-work for five years, and eventually bring up over sixty-four thousand chickens?”
“Well, I DID make a mistake there,” she said, coloring a little. “I'll tell you what I'll do; I'll set every one of my hens every year.”
“But all those chickens may not be hens. You have calculated that every one of them would set as soon as it was old enough.”
She stopped a minute to think this over.
“Two heads are better than one, I see,” she said, directly. “I'll allow that one-half of all the chickens are roosters, and that will make the profits twenty-four thousand three hundred dollars—more than enough to buy this place.”
“Ever so much more,” I cried. “This Rudder Grange is ours!”
CHAPTER IX. WE CAMP OUT.
My wife and I were both so fond of country life and country pursuits that month after month passed by at our little farm in a succession of delightful days. Time flew like a “limited express” train, and it was September before we knew it.
I had been working very hard at the office that summer, and was glad to think of my two weeks' vacation, which were to begin on the first Monday of the month. I had intended spending these two weeks in rural retirement at home, but an interview in the city with my family physician caused me to change my mind. I told him my plan.
“Now,” said he, “if I were you, I'd do nothing of the kind. You have been working too hard; your face shows it. You need rest and change. Nothing will do you so much good as to camp out; that will be fifty times better than going to any summer resort. You can take your wife with you. I know she'll like it. I don't care where you go so that it's a healthy spot. Get a good tent and an outfit, be off to the woods, and forget all about business and domestic matters for a few weeks.”
This sounded splendid, and I propounded the plan to Euphemia that evening. She thought very well of it, and was sure we could do it. Pomona would not be afraid to remain in the house, under the protection of Lord Edward, and she could easily attend to
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