d I believe the chicken eggs will be all chilled to death. What
will I do? It is near midnight and it's--it's--c--cold."

"Let's get 'em quick and maybe we can resuscitate 'em. Don't you remember
about reviving frozen people in that first-aid class we had just after the
war broke out and we didn't know whether we were in it or not? Come on,
quick!" Bess seized the quilt from the bed and descended into the back
yard, clad only in her lingerie for sleeping, a silk robe-de-chambre and
satin mules, while I followed, likewise garmented.

"Oh, dear, how cold," wailed Bess as the frosty Spring air poured around us
in our flight to the barn.

"Put the quilt around you," I chattered.

"I'm going to put all the egg chickens in it," she answered as we scuttled
into the barn out of the wind.

"The lamp is out, but the eggs still feel warm to the hand," I said as I
knelt in deep contrition beside the metal hen.

"Fill it and light it, and they'll soon warm up," advised Bess.

"There's no oil on the place. I forgot it," I again wailed.

"Isn't there room under the hen here?" asked Bess, with the brilliant mind
she inherited from Mr. Rutherford running over the speed limit, and as she
spoke she felt under the old Red Ally, who only clucked good naturedly.

"It feels like she is covering a hundred now, and there's no room for
more," said Bess, answering herself with almost a wail in her voice. "What
will we do? The book says April-hatched chickens are the best, and these
would have come out in just a few days."

And then from somewhere in my heart, which had harbored the cuddle of the
cold lamb babies against it, there rose a knowledge of first aid for the
near-baby chickens.

"Oh, Bess," I exclaimed, "let's wrap the tray of eggs up in the quilt and
take it up-stairs to bed with us. We are just as warm as the hen, and I'll
get Rufus to go for Polly at daylight to fix the lamp while we stay in bed
and huddle them until the incubator warms up, as it does in just an hour
after it's lighted."

"Ann, you are both maternal and intellectual," said Bess, with the deepest
admiration in her voice. "Let's hurry or we'll never get warmed up
ourselves."

And in very much less time than could be imagined Bess Rutherford and I
were in the middle of the four-poster, sunk deep into the feathers with the
precious pearls of life carefully imbedded between us.

"Now don't joggle," Bess commanded as we got all settled and tucked in.

"Mrs.