112 THE FAT OF THE LAND 
« What do you have to pay for them?” 
«Ten cents apiece, — $200 for two thousand 
eggs.” 
« Well, I should say! Are they hand-painted ? 
I wouldn’t have had to quit business if I could 
have sold my eggs at a quarter of that price.” 
« That’s all right, Sam, but you didn’t sell 
White Wyandotte eggs for hatching. I’ve con- 
tracted with two of the best-known fanciers of 
Wyandottes in the country to send me five hun- 
dred eggs apiece February Ist and 25th. I don’t 
think the price is high for the stock.” 
«“ Have you decided to keep ’dottes? I hoped 
you would try Leghorns; they’re great layers.” 
«Yes, they’re great summer layers, but the 
American birds will beat them hollow in winter; 
and I must have as steady a supply of eggs as 
possible. My customers don’t stop eating eggs 
in winter, and they’ll be willing to pay more for 
them at that season. The Leghorn is too small 
to make a good broiler, and as half the chicks 
come cockerels, we must look out for that.” 
“Why do you throw down the Plymouth 
Rocks? They’re bigger than ’dottes, and just as 
good layers.” 
«JT threw down the barred Plymouth Rocks 
on account of color; I like white hens best. It 
was hard to decide between White Rocks and 
Wyandottes, for there’s mighty little difference 
between them as all-around hens. I really think 
I chose the ’dottes because the first reply to my 
