McNutt sighed dismally. Here was a chance to make good money by fleecing
the lambs, yet he was absolutely unable to take advantage of it.

"Ye--ye couldn't use any duck eggs, could ye?" he said, a sudden thought
seeming to furnish him with a brilliant idea.

"Duck eggs?"

"I got the dum-twistedest, extry fine lot o' duck eggs ye ever seen."

"But what can we do with duck eggs?" inquired Beth, wonderingly, while
Patsy and Louise tried hard not to shriek with laughter.

"W'y, set 'em under a hen, an' hatch 'em out."

"Sir," said Beth, "I strongly disapprove of such deceptions. It seems to
me that making a poor hen hatch out ducks, under the delusion that they
are chickens, is one of the most cruel and treacherous acts that
humanity can be guilty of. Imagine the poor thing's feelings when her
children take to water! I'm surprised you could suggest such a wicked
use for duck eggs."

McNutt wiggled his toes again, desperately.

"Can't use any sas'frass roots, can ye?"

"No, indeed; all we crave is the 'Lives of the Saints.'"

"Don't want to buy no land?"