-you're just like a Hen," said our Uncle Peter.

The Lady didn't like to be called a Hen.

It ruffled her all up.

Our Uncle Peter had to talk about Base Ball to soothe her.

The Lady didn't know anything about Base Ball but it seemed to soothe
her considerably to hear about it.

When our Uncle Peter was all through soothing her she looked up as
pleasant as pleasant could be.

"WHY?" she said.

"Why--what?" said our Uncle Peter. He seemed a little perplexed.

"Why--am I like a Hen?" said the Lady.

"O--h," said our Uncle Peter. He acted very much relieved. "O--h," he
said. "I was afraid it was something you were going to ask me about Base
Ball. But a Hen----?" He looked with smiles at the Lady. "Oh but a
Hen--?--Why even a Hen, my dear Madam," he smiled, "a real professional
true-enough hen doesn't take any too easily to the actual chick itself
until she's served a certain sit-tightly, go-lightly, egg-shell sort of
apprenticeship as it were to the IDEA.--Thrust a bunch of chicks under
her before she's served this apprenticeship and----"

I jumped up and down and clapped my hands. I just couldn't help it.

"Oh, I know what happens!" I cried. "She sits too heavy! And squashes
'em perfectly flat!--There was a hen," I cried. "Her name was Lizzie!
She was a good hen! But childless! The Grocer gave us some day-old
chicks to put under her! But when we went out to the nest the next
morning to see 'em--they couldn't have been flatter if they'd been
pressed in the Bible!--My Brother Carol cried,--I cried,--my Mother----"

"I don't care at all who cried," said the Lady. It was true. She didn't.
All she cared was to look at our Uncle Peter. The look was a stern look.

"And are you trying to imply, Mr.--Mr.--?"

"Merredith," said our Uncle Peter. "Percival Merredith.--'Uncle Peter'
for short."

"Mr. Merredith," repeated the Lady coldly. "Are you trying to imply that
my----step-son looks as though he had been pressed in a--a--Bible?"

I shook in my boots. Carol shook in his boots. You could hear us.

Our Uncle Peter never shook a bit. He just twinkled.

"Well--hardly," he said.

The Lady looked pretty surprised. When she wasn't looking surprised she
looked thoughtful.

Her voice sounded little when she got it started again.

"Maybe--Maybe I DO take my responsibilities too heavily," she said. "But
it's this--this sleeping business that worries me so."

"I should think it would," said our Uncle Peter.

"No N