They say horses are
intelligent, but I don't think they know any more than hens."
"I thought hens were bright," said Maude. "They say they hide their
eggs so we can't poach and boil them."
"Well, you can judge. When we moved into this house all the doors had
glass knobs. I took them off, put them in a box and set them out in
the barn. I saw a hen setting, but didn't notice her particularly
until one day she got off the nest while I was in the barn, and true
as I live, that fool hen had been trying to hatch out those knobs."
"They said you have a little boy, Mr. Strout," Maude looked at him
inquiringly. "I hope he isn't sick."
"No, he's all right. But we never let him come to the table when we
have company, because he talks too much."
"What's his name?"
"That's the funny part of it. My wife has lots of relations, and some
wanted him named this, and some wanted him named that. So I went to
the library and looked at all the names in the dictionary."
Maude's curiosity was excited. "What did you finally decide upon?"
"Well, we haven't named him yet. We call him No. 3, I being No. 1,
and my wife No. 2."
After their guests had departed, Mrs. Strout asked, "Why didn't you
tell Miss Sawyer that our boy's name was same as yours?"
"Why didn't I?" snapped her husband. "Because she was so blamed
anxious for me to tell her. Them Sawyers are 'ristocrats.
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