one hundred and sixty chickens; in the fourth year there will be
twelve thousand nine hundred and sixty, and at the end of the fifth
year, which is as far as I need to calculate now, we shall have
sixty-four thousand and eight hundred chickens. What do you think
of that? At seventy-five cents apiece,--a very low price,--that
would be forty-eight thousand and six hundred dollars. Now, what
is the petty cost of a fence, and a few coops, by the side of a sum
like that?"

"Nothing at all," I answered. "It is lost like a drop in the
ocean. I hate, my dear, to interfere in any way with such a
splendid calculation as that, but I would like to ask you one
question."

"Oh, of course," she said, "I suppose you are going to say
something about the cost of feeding all this poultry. That is to
come out of the chickens supposed to die. They won't die. It is
ridiculous to suppose that each hen will bring up but five
chickens. The chickens that will live, out of those I consider as
dead, will more than pay for the feed."

"That is not what I was going to ask you, although of course it
ought to be considered. But you know you are only going to set
common hens, and you do not intend to raise any. Now, are those
four hens to do all the setting and mother-work for five years, and
eventually bring up over sixty-four thousand chickens?"

"Well, I DID make a mistake there," she said, coloring a little.
"I'll tell you what I'll do; I'll set every one of my hens every
year."