"Well, if that don't beat all!" said mother, and she looked the very picture of doleful dumps. "I hope there is no more of them a-coming into the world that way, without being sent for!" and she opened a second, and out came a second flock, with a "Chick, chick, chick!" and another, and another, till she pulled them all out. The cabin floor was chockful of them; for the heat and confined bilge air had hatched all the eggs that were in the close and hot drawers.
Oh, the captain, and passengers, and sailors, they roared with laughter! Mother was awful mad, for nothing makes one so angry as accidents that set folks off a tee-hee-ing that way. If anybody had been to blame but herself, wouldn't they have caught it, that's all? for scolding is a great relief to a woman; but as there warn't, there was nothing left but to cry: and scolding and crying are two safety-valves that have saved many a heart from busting.
Well, the loss was not great, though she liked to take care of her coppers, too; it was the vexation that worried her. But the worst was to come yet. When she returned home, the boys to Digby got hold of the story; and, wherever she went, they called out after her "Chick, chick, chick!" I skinned about half-a-dozen of the little imps of mischief for it, but it only made them worse; for they hid in porches, and behind doors, and gates, and fences, as seen her a-coming, and roared out, "Chick, chick, chick!" and nearly bothered her to death. So she give up going out any more, and never leaves home now. It's my opinion, her rheumatism is nothing but the effect of want of exercise, and all comes from that cursed "Chick, chick, chick!"
Old Deacon Bruce of Aylesford, last Monday week, bought a sleigh of his fellow-deacon, Squire Burns, for five pounds. On his way home with it, who should he meet but Zeek Morse, a-trudging along through the snow a-foot.
"Friend Zeek," says the old Christian, "won't you get in and ride? Here's room for you and welcome."
"Don't care if I do," said Zeek, "seeing that sitting is as cheap as walking, if you don't pay for it." So he hops in, and away they go.
Well, Zeek was mightily taken with the sleigh.
"Deacon," says he, "how shall you and me trade for it? It's just the article I want, for I am a-going down to Bridgetown next week to be married; and it will suit me to a notch to fetch Mrs. Morse, my wife, home in. What will you take for it?"