Kilo : being the love story of Eliph' Hewlitt, book agent Page 19

  CHAPTER XIX. Pap Briggs' Hen Food

  The doubt that Miss Sally had expressed regarding Pap Briggs' acceptanceof Eliph' Hewlitt as a son-in-law was mild compared with the fact. Whenthe old man returned the next day from his farm at Clarence and learnedfrom Miss Sally that she had promised to marry the book agent he wasfuriously angry. For two whole days he refused to wear his store teethat all, and when he recovered from his first height of anger it was tosettle down into a hard and fast negative. He went about town tellinganyone that would listen to him that there ought to be licenses againstbook agents, and once having made up his mind that Miss Sally should notmarry Eliph' as long as he remained alive to prevent it, not even thefriendly approaches of the book agent could move him from his stubbornresolution. Miss Sally would not think of marrying while her father wasin such a state of opposition, and indeed, Eliph' did not urge it. Hehad no desire to defy his father-in-law, and he unwillingly but kindlyagreed to wait.

  In this way the autumn faded into winter. Mrs. Tarbro-Smith returned toNew York with a note-book full of dialect and a head full of local colorand types, and if she took Susan with her it was only because she agreedto bring her back in June, when T. J. Jones was to marry her. Miss Sallylived on with her father, attending to his wants, which were few andsimple. An egg for breakfast, and enough tobacco to burn all day werehis chief earthly desires, eggs because he could eat them in comfort,and tobacco because he liked it.

  When Miss Sally had moved to town there was one thing she had said herfather SHOULDN'T do, after living all his life on a farm, and that was,have store eggs for his breakfast.

  "Hens is trouble enough, Lord knows," said Miss Sally, "an' dirty, ifthey can't be kep' in their place; but there's some comfort in theircluckin' round, and I guess I'll have plenty of time, and to spare totend to 'em; so, Pap, you won't have to eat no stale eggs for breakfast,if I kin help it. They ain't nothing' I hate to think on like boughteneggs. Nobody knows how old they are, nor who's been a-handlin' them; andeat boughten eggs you shan't do, sure's my name's Briggs!"

  So Sally brought half a dozen hens and a gallant rooster to town withher, and supervised the erection of a cozy coop and hen-yard, and Paphad the comfort of knowing his eggs were fresh. But fresh or not, itmade no difference to him so long as he had one each morning, and it wasfairly edible.

  "These teeth o' mine," he told Billings, the grocer, "cost twelvedollars down to Franklin, by the best dentist there; but, law sakes!A feller can't eat hard stuff with any comfort with 'em for fear ofbreakin' 'em every minute. They ain' nothin' but chiney, an' you knowhow chiney's the breakiest thing man ever made. That's why I say, 'Giveme eggs for breakfast, Sally,'--and eggs I will have."

  The six hens did their duty nobly during the summer and autumn and apart of the winter, and Pap had his egg unfailingly; but in December thelong cold spell came, and the six hens struck. It was the longest andcoldest spell ever known in Kilo, and it hung on and hung on until theentire hen population of Eastern Iowa became disgusted and went on astrike. Eggs went up in price until even packed eggs of the previoussummer sold for twenty-seven and thirty cents a dozen, and angel-cakebecame an impossible dainty.

  The second morning that Pap Briggs ate this eggless breakfast hesuggested that perhaps Sally might buy a few eggs at the grocery.

  "Pap Briggs," she exclaimed reproachfully, "the idee of you sayin' sicha thin! As if I would cook packed eggs! No; we'll wait, and mebby thehens will begin layin' again in a day or two."

  But they did not, and the days became a week, and two weeks, and stillno eggs rewarded her daily search. Pap knew better than to repeat hissuggestion of buying eggs, for Sally Briggs said a thing only when shemeant it, and to mention it again would only exasperate her.

  "Our hens don't lay a blame egg," Pap told Billings complainingly, "andSally won't buy eggs, and I can't eat nothin' but eggs for breakfast, soI reckon I'll jist have to naturally starve to death."

  "Why don't you try some of our hen-food?" asked Billings, taking up apackage and reading from the label. "'Guaranteed to make hens lay in allkinds of weather, the coldest as well as the warmest' That's just whatyou want, Pap."

  "Well," said Pap, "I been keepin' hens off and on for nigh forty year,and I ain't ever seen any o' that stuff that was ary good; but I gotto have eggs or bust, so I'll take a can o' that stuff. But I ain't nohopes of it, Billings, I ain't no hopes."

  His pessimism was well founded. The cold spell was too much even for thebest hen-food to conquer. No eggs rewarded him.

  One evening he was sitting in Billings', smoking his pipe and thinking.He had been thinking for some time, and at length a sparkle came intohis eyes, and he knocked the ashes from his pipe and arose.

  "Billings," he said, "mix me up about a nickel's wuth o' corn-meal,and a nickel's wuth o' flour, and"--he hesitated a moment and thenchuckled--"and a nickel's wuth o' wash-blue."

  "For heaven's sake, Pap," said Billings, "have ye gone plumb crazy?"

  "No, I ain't," said Pap. "I ain't lost all my brains yit, nor I ain'tgone plumb crazy yit, neither. That's a hen food I invented."

  "Hen-food!" exclaimed Billings. "You don't 'low that will make hens lay,do you, Pap?"

  "I ain't advisin' no one to use it that don't want to," said Pap, "but Ibet you I'm a-goin' to feed that to my hens"; and he chuckled again.

  "Pap," said Billings, "you're up to some be-devilment, sure! What isit?"

  "You jist keep your hand on your watch till you find out," answered Pap,and he took his package and went home.

  "Sally," he said when he entered the house, "I got some hen-food nowthat's bound to make them hens lay, sure."

  She took the package and opened it.

  "For law's sake, Pap," she said, "what kind o' hen-food is that? It'sblue!"

  "Yes," said Pap, looking at it closely, "it IS blue, ain't it? It's amixture of my own. I ain't been raisin' hens off an' on fer forty yearfor nothin'. You got to study the hen, Sally, and think about her. Whydon't a hen lay in cold weather? 'Cause the weather makes the hen cold.This will make her warm. You jist try it. Give 'em a spoonful apiece an'I reckon they'll lay. It don't look like much, but I bet you anythingit'll make them hens lay."

  "I don't believe it," she snapped, "and I'll hold you to that bet,sure's my names Briggs." But the next day she gave them the allottedportion.

  That evening when Pap Briggs knocked the ashes from his pipe and rosefrom his seat in Billings' store, he said, "Billings, have you got somemainly fresh eggs--eggs you kin recommend?"

  "Yes, I have," said Billings, with a grin. "So your hen-food don't work,Pap?"

  Pap chuckled.

  "It's a-workin," he said, "and you can give me a dozen o' them eggs.And, say, you need't tell Sally."

  Billings laughed. "I'm on," he said.

  Pap put the bag of eggs back of the cracker-box, and put three of themin his pocket.

  When he reached home he quietly slipped around the house and depositedthe three eggs in three nests, and went it.

  The next morning Sally greeted him with a smile. "Eggs this mornin',Pap," she said. "That hen-food did work like a charm. I got three eggs."

  Pap ate without comment until he had finished the second egg. He feltthat he could eat a dozen, after his long fast.

  "It do seem good to have eggs agin," he said.

  That evening, and the next evening he deposited three eggs as before.On the third morning Sally said: "It's queer about them hens, Pap; theylay, but they don't cluck like a hen generally does when she lays anegg."

  Pap hesitated for a moment.

  "It's sich cold weather," he said, "I reckon that's why."

  About a week later Sally said: "I do declare to gracious, Pap, them hensdo puzzle me."

  Pap moved uneasily in his seat.

  "The do puzzle me!" repeated Sally. "Here the are layin' right along asreg'lar as summer-time, and never cluckin' or lettin' on a bit, andthe queerest thing is they jist lay three eggs every day. It don't seemnatural!"
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br />   That night Pap put four eggs in the nests. The next night he put infive, and the next night three, and the danger into which his wiles hadfallen was averted.

  One morning Sally startled him by saying: "Pap, I can't make them hensout. Here they are a-layin' right along, and all at once they quitlayin' decent sized eggs like they ought, and begin layin' little meanthings no better than banty eggs."

  Pap scratched his head.

  "You must allow, Sally," he said, "that it's quite a strain on a hento keep a-layin' right along through such weather as this, and I'm onlythankful they lay any. Mebby if you give them a leetle more o' thathen-food they'll do better."

  "I believe it," said Sally. "Why, it's wonderful, Pap. I shouldn't be abit surprised to find 'em layin' duck eggs if I jist give 'em enough o'that stuff."

  Pap looked closely at her face, but it was innocent of guile. Shesuspected nothing.

  The next day the eggs were of the proper size.

  "It's a real blessin' to have hens a-layin'," she said one day. "I tookhalf a dozen over to the minister's wife this mornin', and she was sopleased! She said it was sich a blessin' to have fresh eggs again.She was gittin' sick o' them she's been buyin' at Billings'. She wasdownright thankful."

  About a week later she said:

  "Them hens of ourn do beat all creation. I run out o' that hen-food aweek ago, and I hain't give them a mite since, and they keep a-layin'jist the same. I can't make head nor tail of them, Pap."

  Pap squirmed in his chair.

  "Pshaw, now, Sally," he said, "you'd ought to have let me know you wasout. You oughtn't to do that. Feed 'em plenty of it. They deserve it.If you stop feedin' them they'll stop layin' pretty soon. The effect ofthat hen-food don't last more'n two weeks. No," he said thoughtfully,"ten days is the longest I ever knowed it to last 'em."

  If Pap Briggs enjoyed his eggs for breakfast he enjoyed as fully themany laughs he had with Billings over the scheme, and Billing foundit hard to keep his promised secrecy. It would be such a good story totell. But Pap exhorted him daily, and he did not let the secret out.

  One Sunday morning Pap came down to his breakfast and took his seat.Sally brought his coffee and bacon. Then she brought him a plate ofmoistened toast.

  "You've forgot the eggs, Sally," said Pap admonishingly.

  "They ain't none this morning," said Sally briefly.

  Pap looked up and saw that her mouth was set very firmly.

  "No eggs?" he asked tremulously.

  "No," she said decidedly, "no eggs! I kin believe that hens lay eggs anddon't cluck, and I kin believe that hens lay eggs all winter, and I kinbelieve that Plymouth Rock hens lay Leghorn eggs and Shanghai eggs andBanty eggs, Pap, but when hens begin layin' spoiled eggs I ain't no morefaith in hens."

  Pap laid down his knife and fork.

  "Spoiled eggs!" he ejaculated.

  "Yes, spoiled eggs," she declared. "You and Billings ought to be morecareful."

  Pap turned his bacon over and eyed it critically. Then he frowned at it.Then he chuckled.

  "You needn't laugh," said Miss Sally severely. "You don't get no moreeggs until the hens begin laying regular. You can eat moistened toast.You ain't fair to me, pa. You set up to say who I shall marry, when I'mold enough to know for myself, and then you go and cheat me about eggs.Mebby I ain't old enough to know who to marry, but I'm old enough to runthis house for you, and you don't get no more eggs. No more eggs untilspring, or until I can marry who I want to."

  Pap looked at the mushy piece of toast and grinned sheepishly.

  "You'd be worse of 'n ever, Sally," he said meekly, "if so be youmarried a man that felt he had to hev eggs every morning. They'd be twoof us then."

  "Well, I'd just have to buy eggs then," she said, "if that come to pass.I couldn't expect these few hens to lay enough eggs in winter for twomen. If I had to buy eggs for a husband, I'd buy them."

  The old man ate his toast slowly and without relish.

  "Sally," he said that afternoon, "I guess mebby you'd better gitmarried. I'm gittin' old. You'd better marry that book agent whilst yougot a chance."

  It was Pap Briggs who urged an early date, after that, and who was mostjoyous at the wedding.

  "Pap," asked Sally one morning soon after she and Eliph' were married,while the three were sitting at breakfast, "what ever made you swinground so sudden and want me to marry Eliph', after objectin' so long?"

  Her father looked at Eliph' slyly and chuckled.

  "Eggs," he said. "I fooled you that time, Sally. I knowed when I said togo ahead that Eliph' has to have eggs for breakfast. Doc Weaver told meso."