I'll put 'em in my blouse till you get
outside and then I'll hand 'em to you. How many you going to
take?"
"We might just as well git 'em all now," said Billy. "Aunt Cindy
say they's some kinder hens won't lay no chickens 't all if
folks put they hands in they nests an' this here hen look like to
me she's one of them kind, so the rester the egg'll jest be
waste, any how, 'cause you done put yo' han's in her nes', an' a
dominicker ain't a-goin' to stan' no projeckin' with her eggs.
Hurry up."
Jimmy carefully distributed the eggs inside his blouse, and Billy
once more crawled through the hole and stood on the outside
waiting, cap in hand, to receive them.
But the patient hen had at last raised her voice in angry protest
and set up a furious cackling, which so frightened the little boy
on the inside that he was panic-stricken. He caught hold of a
low roost pole, swung himself up and, wholly unmindful of his blouse
full of eggs, pushed his lower limbs through the hole and stuck
fast.
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