be kep' in their place; but there's some comfort in their
cluckin' round, and I guess I'll have plenty of time, and to spare to
tend to 'em; so, Pap, you won't have to eat no stale eggs for breakfast,
if I kin help it. They ain't nothing' I hate to think on like boughten
eggs. Nobody knows how old they are, nor who's been a-handlin' them; and
eat boughten eggs you shan't do, sure's my name's Briggs!"

So Sally brought half a dozen hens and a gallant rooster to town with
her, and supervised the erection of a cozy coop and hen-yard, and Pap
had the comfort of knowing his eggs were fresh. But fresh or not, it
made no difference to him so long as he had one each morning, and it was
fairly edible.

"These teeth o' mine," he told Billings, the grocer, "cost twelve
dollars down to Franklin, by the best dentist there; but, law sakes!
A feller can't eat hard stuff with any comfort with 'em for fear of
breakin' 'em every minute. They ain' nothin' but chiney, an' you know
how chiney's the breakiest thing man ever made. That's why I say, 'Give
me eggs for breakfast, Sally,'--and eggs I will have."

The six hens did their duty nobly during the summer and autumn and a
part of the winter, and Pap had his egg unfailingly; but in December the
long cold spell came, and the six hens struck. It was the longest and
coldest spell ever known in Kilo, and it hung on and hung on until the
entire hen population of Eastern Iowa became disgusted and went on a
strike. Eggs went up in price until even packed eggs of the previous
summer sold for twenty-seven and thirty cents a dozen, and angel-cake
became an impossible dainty.

The second morning that Pap Briggs ate this eggless breakfast he
suggested that perhaps Sally might buy a few eggs at the grocery.

"Pap Briggs," she exclaimed reproachfully, "the idee of you sayin' sich
a thin! As if I would cook packed eggs! No; we'll wait, and mebby the
hens will begin layin' again in a day or two."

But they did not, and the days became a week, and two weeks, and still
no eggs rewarded her daily search. Pap knew better than to repeat his
suggestion of buying eggs, for Sally Briggs said a thing only when she
meant it, and to mention it again would only exasperate her.

"Our hens don't lay a blame egg," Pap told Billings complainingly, "and
Sally won't buy eggs, and I can't eat nothin' but eggs for breakfast, so
I reckon I'll jist have to naturally starve to death."

"Why don't you try some of our he