TURKEYS 103 



In his blundering, well-meaning way he was 

 doing a deal of good. The female book agent and 

 subscription fairy fled from my premises as from 

 a place accursed. The dark-complexioned lady 

 of Armenian extraction, with big feet and still 

 bigger suit-case, crowded to the brim with gaudy 

 and useless wares, was driven from the premises 

 instanter. The saturnine villain with parti-col- 

 ored rugs had to fly for his life. The small 

 boys, who had worn a path through my lawn 

 to the campus, were forced to pass through a 

 neighbor's garden, and the D'Indy Club, the 

 Frauenverein, the Mothers' Club, the committee 

 on church affairs, met elsewhere. 



Really, I w T as quite ready to repeat my experi- 

 ment should anything happen to my old friend, 

 and stood ready to advocate the cock-turkey as 

 the watch-dog of the household. 



One day, as I was passing the brush-heap, I 

 bethought myself of taking a look at the turkey- 

 hen. So I pulled her hissing from her nest, and 

 to my surprise found that the bricks had been 

 pushed from the nest, and in their place were 

 eight eggs. With a thrill at my heart that re- 

 minded me of my boyish days of birds'-egging, 

 I replaced her carefully and took heart again. 



Perhaps I had made a mistake after all. Per- 

 haps the books were wrong. I remembered to 

 have heard a story once of an Irish common 



