OAKLEIGH.

BY ELLEN DOUGLAS DELAND.

CHAPTER VI.

Jack and Neal entered into partnership in the poultry business.

"You see, I sha'n't have a cent of my own until I am twenty-five,"

explained Neal, "and my old grandmother left most of the cash to Hessie.

She had some crazy old-fashioned notions about men being able to work for their living, but women couldn't. It's all a mistake. Nowadays women can work just as well as men, if not better. Besides, they marry, and their husbands ought to support them. Now, what am I going to do when I marry?"

Cynthia, who was present at this discussion, gave a little laugh. "Are you thinking of taking this important step very soon? Perhaps you will have time to earn a little first. Chickens may help you. Or you might choose a wife who will work--you say women do it better than men--and she will be pleased to support you, I have no doubt."

They were on the river, tied up under an overhanging tree. Cynthia, who had been paddling, sat in the stern of the canoe; the boys were stretched in the bottom. It was a warm, lazy-feeling day for all but Cynthia. The boys had been taking their ease and allowing her to do the work, which she was always quite willing to do.

"I'll tell you how it is," continued Neal, ignoring Cynthia's sarcasm.

"I'll have a tidy little sum when I am twenty-five, and until then Hessie is to make me an allowance and pay my school and college expenses. She's pretty good about it--about giving me extras now and then, I mean--but you sort of hate to be always nagging at a girl for money. It was a rum way of doing the thing, anyhow, making me dependent on her. I wish my grandmother hadn't been such a hoot-owl."

Cynthia looked at him reprovingly. "You are terribly disrespectful," she said, "and I think you needn't make such a fuss. You're pretty lucky to have such a sister as mamma."

"Oh, Hessie might be worse, I don't deny. It's immense to hear you great girls call her 'mamma,' though. I never thought to see Hessie marry a widower with a lot of children. What was she thinking of, anyway?"

"Well, you are polite! She was probably thinking what a very nice man my father is," returned Cynthia, loftily.

"He is a pretty good fellow. So far I haven't found him a bad sort of brother-in-law. I don't know how it will be when I put in my demand for a bigger allowance in the fall. I have an idea he could be pretty stiff on those occasions. But that's why I want to go into the poultry business."

"And I don't mind having you," said Jack. "Sharing the profits is sharing the expense, and so far I've seen more expense than profit.

However, when they begin to lay and we send the eggs to market, then the money will pour in. I say we don't do anything but sell eggs. It would be an awful bore to get broilers ready for market. By-the-way, I think we had better go back now and finish up that brooder we were making."

"Oh, no hurry," said Neal. "It won't take three minutes to do that, and it's jolly out here. It's the coolest place I've been in to-day. Let's talk some more about the poultry business. We'll call ourselves 'Franklin & Gordon, Oakleigh Poultry Farm.' That will look dandy on the bill-heads. And we'll make a specialty of those pure white eggs. I say, Cynthia, what are you grinning at?"

"I am not grinning. I am not a Cheshire cat."

"I don't know. I've already felt your claws once or twice. But you've got something funny in your head. The corners of your mouth are twitching, and your eyes are dancing like--like the river."

Cynthia cast up her blue eyes in mock admiration. "Hear! hear! He grows poetical. But as you are so very anxious to know what I am 'grinning'

at," she added, demurely, "I'll tell you. I was only thinking of a little proverb I have heard. It had something to do with counting chickens before they are hatched."

"Oh, come off!" exclaimed Jack, while Neal laughed good-naturedly.

"And I've also a suggestion to make," went on Cynthia. "From what I have gathered during our short acquaintance, I think Mr. Neal Gordon isn't over-fond of exerting himself. I think it would be a good idea, Jack, when you sign your partnership papers, or whatever they are, to put in something about dividing the work as well as the expense _and_ the profits."

"There go your claws again," said Neal. "Let's change the subject by trying to catch a 'lucky-bug.'" And he made a grab towards the myriads of insects that were darting hither and thither on the surface of the water. "I'll give a prize--this fine new silver quarter to the one who catches a 'lucky-bug.'"

He laid the money on the thwart of the boat and made another dash.

"When you have lived on the river as long as I have you'll know that 'lucky-bugs' can't be caught," said Cynthia. "Now see what you have done, you silly boy!"

For with Neal's last effort the quarter had flown from the canoe and sunk with a splash in the river.

"Good-by, quarter!" sang Neal. "I might find you if I thought it would pay to get wet for the likes of you."

"If that is the way you treat quarters, I don't wonder you think your allowance isn't big enough," said Cynthia, severely; "and may I ask you a question?"

"You may ask a dozen; but the thing is, will I answer them?"

"You will if I ask them. Were you ever in a canoe before?"

"A desire to crush you tempts me to say 'yea,' but a stern regard for truth compels me to answer 'nay.'"

"You couldn't crush me if you tried for a week, and you couldn't make me believe you had ever been in a canoe before, for your actions show you haven't. People that have spent their time on yachts and sail-boats think they can go prancing about in a canoe and catch all the lucky-bugs they want. When you have upset us all you will stop prancing, I suppose."

"Claws again," groaned Neal, in exaggerated despair.

"I say, Cynth, let's go back and put him to work on that brooder," said Jack, who had been enjoying this sparring-match. "We'll see what work we can get out of him."

And, notwithstanding his remonstrances, Neal was paddled home and put to work. Cynthia's "claws" did take effect, and for the first time in his life he began to feel a little ashamed of being so lazy.

Jack was one of the plodding kind. His mind was not as brilliant as Neal's, nor his tongue as ready, but at the end of the year he would have more to show than Neal Gordon.

Mrs. Franklin carried out her plan of inviting their friends to the "hatching bee," and Thursday was the day on which the chicks were expected to come out. As the morning wore on Cynthia's excitement grew more and more intense, and all the family shared it.

"What shall we do if they don't come out?" she exclaimed a dozen times.

At one o'clock a crack was discovered in one of the eggs in the "thermometer row." At three it was a decided break, and several others could be seen. Cynthia declared that she heard a chirping, but it was very faint.

Mrs. Franklin remained upstairs to receive the guests, who came down as soon as they arrived. There were about a dozen girls and boys.

Fortunately the cellar was large and airy, and the coolest place to be found on this warm summer day.

And presently the fun began. Pop! pop! went one egg after another, and out came a little struggling chick, which in due time floundered across the other eggs or the deserted egg-sh.e.l.ls, and flopped down to the gravel beneath on the lower floor of the machine. It was funny to see them, and, as they gradually recovered from their efforts, and their feathers dried off, the little downy b.a.l.l.s crowded at the front, and, chirping loudly, pecked at the gla.s.s.

Mrs. Franklin joined them now and then, and at last, when about seventy chicks had been hatched, she insisted upon all coming upstairs for a breath of fresh air before supper.

Here a surprise awaited them. Unknown to her daughters Mrs. Franklin had given orders that the supper-table should be arranged upon the lawn in the shade of the house, and when Edith stepped out on the piazza she paused in astonishment.

What terrible innovation into the manners and customs of Oakleigh was this? Last year, for a little party the children gave, she had wanted tea on the lawn, but it could not be accomplished. How had the new-comer managed to do it?

"Isn't this too lovely!" cried Gertrude Morgan, enthusiastically, turning to Edith. "My dear, I think you are the luckiest girl I ever knew, to have any one give you such a surprise. Didn't you really know a thing about it?"

"I have been consulted about nothing," returned Edith, stiffly. She would have liked to run upstairs and hide, out of sight of the whole affair.

"I hope you like the effect, Edith," said Mrs. Franklin, coming up to her as she stood on the piazza step. "I thought it would be great fun to surprise you."

"I detest surprises of all kinds," replied Edith, turning away, "and it seems to me I have had nothing else lately."

Much disappointed and greatly hurt, Mrs. Franklin was about to speak again, but at this moment Cynthia, enchanted with the success of the hatch, and with the pretty sight on the lawn, rushed up to her step-mother and squeezed her arm.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "YOU ARE A PERFECT DEAR!" SHE WHISPERED. "EVERYTHING IS NICER SINCE YOU CAME."]