the chickens. She wished to do this entirely herself, so that
there might be one thing that should be all her own, just as my
work in town was all my own. As she wished to buy the chickens and
defray all the necessary expenses out of her own private funds, I
could make no objections, and, indeed, I had no desire to do so.
She bought a chicken-book, and made herself mistress of the
subject. For a week, there was a strong chicken flavor in all our
conversation.

This was while the poultry yard was building. There was a chicken-
house on the place, but no yard, and Euphemia intended to have a
good big one, because she was going into the business to make
money.

"Perhaps my chickens may buy the place," she said, and I very much
hoped they would.

Everything was to be done very systematically. She would have
Leghorns, Brahmas, and common fowls. The first, because they laid
so many eggs; the second, because they were such fine, big fowls,
and the third, because they were such good mothers.

"We will eat, and sell the eggs of the first and third classes,"
she said, "and set the eggs of the second class, under the hens of
the third class."

"There seems to be some injustice in that arrangement," I said,
"for the first class will always be childless; the second class
will have nothing to do with their offspring, while the third will
be obliged to bring up and care for the children of others."