The Glenwood post., 1912-10-26
Mary Ellen S
Way

Il think it would be nice to have
some chickens of our own" said Mr..
Mary Ellen at the breakfast table.
blush. They are always high. too.
Didn't you pay SO cents dozen last
winter?"
Mary Ellen admitted she did.
That's outrageous. We could raise
our own eggs for much less than that.
And have fresh ones in the bargain.
And broilers, too. Think Of delicious,
tender broilers!"
Mary Ellen was not partial to keep
ing chickens; but, she only said mild
ly: Chickens are a sort of nuisance,
aren't they?"
Not if they are taken care OF
properly"
well, do just as you please. Fresh
eggs would be nice"
That night consignment of Rhode
Island Reds arrived.
The next day the iceman left the
gate open and the Rhode Island Reds
streamed into the yard, as If putting
foot on their native heath. With a
meditative eye Mary Ellen watched
them as they settled down Industrious.
ly to the task of over-hauling Mr. Mary
Ellen's pet flower border. They had
grand time. They followed the trail
of each worm to its beginning in the
lower regions. They took dust baths.
They INDUCED in vigorous leg eXer-
cises. When the day was done and
darkness fell from the wings of night,
their wings were folded cont entedly
over sense Of duty thoroughly per-
formed.
What in thunder is the matter with
the flowers?" exploded Mr.. Mary El-
len as he viewed the wreckage.
"The iceman left the gate open and
the chickens got in," said Mary Ellen
meekly. Isn't it too bad?"
Mr. Mary Ellen stalked gloomily in
to the house. The next morning a
sign, shut the Gate" adorned that
feature of the domicile.
About 10 o'clock excited squawks
and the furious footing of an auto horn
rose on the air; and as the car whirled
on the king of the flock, the resplend-
ent rooster, lay a mutilated wreck by
the roadside.
I'm awfully sorry, dear. but the
rooster was killed today by an auto"
"Why don't you keep them up?"
you said they were to run out
So Mr.. Mary Ellen spent the eve.
ming mending the fence around the
chickenyard. He was not an expert
carpenter, and his hands looked the
worse for the experience when he
came in.
Did you get any eggs today?" he
asked warily.
"No, / guess chickens have to get
used to place before they lay"
The days passed and still the eggs
refused to apear.
Maybe 1t doesn't agree with them
to be kept up" suggested Mary Ell.
len.
what in thunder can you do with
them? You can't let 'em run and
you can't keep 'em up"
"They are problem" said Mary
Ellen sympathetically "And it takes
so much of your time't to read up about
IillthNIios II q oli htN eI
get to read the magazines or new
books or anything any more. That
last book ! got was corker, just the
kind you like"
Mr.. Mary Ellen sighed. A few days
later he said, "Those chickens are
scratching themselves awful"
Maybe they ought to be creased
"Greased!"
yes. l have heard that when chick
ems get to scratching themselves you
have to catch them and grease them
about the head and the wings and such
places. It's a mess to do it."
Not for mine" said Mr.. Mary Ellen
I'm no hen lubricator."
But dear, they won't be healthy II
you don't grease them
""Then they can pine away and die.
drat EN-"
at is shame for you to have to
work SO hard. l wish you did not have
them. You are Just wearing yourself
out over those chickens. And they
don't pay, either. They are not worth
It,"
The next day somebody called and
said Mr.. Mary Ellen, with twinkle
in her eye, watched them depart.
"Yes. did work hard" said Mr..
Mary Ellen that night after supper.
But I didn't mind that. If it had
paid 1t would have been all right. But
there is no sense in going on with a
thing that does not pay"
mot hit," said Mary Ellen blithe-
Iy. "Only not everybody has the sense
you have to see it."-Chicago Post.