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September 9, 1914.] said, "we'll call it 2s. That makes twice 1,121 shillings. How much is that?"

I found a stump of pencil, and an empty corner of The History of the War, and worked it out. "£112 2s. 0d.," I said at last.

"Not so bad, Daddy, in twelve months."

"Marvellous!" I said; "colossal! But you haven't allowed for the chickens we shall eat."

"No," she said, "but we shall save 2s. on each one we eat, so it's the same thing in the end."

I admitted the plausibility of this calculation.

"But," I said, "you're not allowing for deaths and bad eggs."

"Oh yes, I am," she said; "I've only allowed half the eggs to become chickens."

"You'd never make a company promoter," I said.

"I'm going to be a hospital nurse, thank you, Daddy," she said with her nose in the air. "Do come and see Evargeline's family."

So we strolled into the garden and down to the poultry run, taking the multiplication sums with us.

Evangeline, the optimist, was busy scratching up the more or less kindly fruits of the earth for her family and didn't make the slightest sign of recognition, though I coughed twice.

"She's much too busy," said Peggy, "to notice that you've come home. Aren't they darlings?"

"They're certainly a healthy-looking lot. Two of them I recognise as Clara's contribution. Doesn't she mind?"

"I don't think so," said Peggy; "she's busy too. She's been sitting now for nearly a fortnight, and Maud Eliza's on eggs as well."

"I hope none of my golf balls are addled," I said. "I want to have a round to-morrow afternoon."

"Of course not. I've washed them all and put them back again."

"Good egg! " I said.

Suddenly I had an unhappy thought. "Where," I asked, "are the figures relating to this lot of Evangeline's?"

"Here," she said, "under 'E.' Five chickens. I've allowed five to die, though I'm sure they wouldn't if they knew what they're wanted for."

"I'm afraid you'll have to work it all out again."

"Why?"

"Look here," I said, "five chickens, and each going to lay at least enough eggs to sit on, and half of the sitting to mature, as it were; that sounds fair enough, but not more than three of this lot will lay eggs at all."

"Oh! why ever not?" she said.

"Nature's limitations," I explained. "Seven of them are cockerels."



"'The Boa Constrictor, 3,500 feet.' Advt. in 'Cape Times.'"

There must have been some centipedes in the family.

"''I received orders from my employer,' he said, to go to ,' but found that the train service was stopped. I had to do many miles on my bicycle.'—Yorkshire Evening News."

We trust that he did not scorch very badly on his arrival at this unmentionable destination.