outrageously by you or any of your Millville people."

This was said so sternly that it sent McNutt into an ague of terror. He
fumbled for the smallest bill, tremblingly placed it in Mr. Merrick's
hand, and then with a thrill of despair realized he had presented the
dreadful No. 1!

"It's--it's--a--'count of what I spent out," he stammered.

Uncle John ran his eye over the bill.

"What are Plymouth Rocks?" he demanded.

"He--hens, sir."

"Hens at a dollar apiece?"

"Thoroughbreds, sir. Extry fine stock. I raised 'em myself."

"H-m. You've charged them twice."

"Eh?"

"Here's an item: 'Twelve Plymouth Rocks, twelve dollars;' and farther
down: 'Twelve Plymouth Rocks, eighteen dollars.'"

"Oh, yes; o' course. Ye see, I sold you a dozen first, of the dollar
kind. Then I thought as how, bein' fine young birds, you'd be tempted
fer to eat 'em, an' a dozen don't go fur on the table. So I up an' sold
ye another dozen, extry ol' stock an' remarkable high-bred, fer a