never
crossing the hoed line separating garden from yard.

"You'd better stay over there, you no-account Lothario," Hetty growled.
"Five eggs short this morning and all you do is act like you were just
the business agent for this bunch of fugitives from a dumpling pot."
Solomon cocked his head and stared Hetty down. She paused at the foot
of the backporch steps and threw the rooster a final remark. "You don't
do any better than this you're liable to wind up in that pot yourself."
Solomon gave a scornful cluck. "Better still, I'll get me a young
rooster in here and take over your job." Solomon let out a squawk and
took out at a dead run, herding three hens before him towards the
chicken house.

With a satisfied smile of triumph, Hetty climbed the steps and crossed
to the kitchen door. She turned and looked back across the yard towards
the barn and corrals.

"Barneeeeey," Hetty yelled. "Ain't you finished with that milking yet?"

"Comin' now, Miz Thompson," came the reply from the barn. Hetty let the
screen door slam behind her as she walked into the kitchen and placed
the bucket of eggs on the big work table. She had her arm up to wipe
her moist forehead on the sleeve of her shirt when she spotted the
golden egg lying in the middle of the others in the galvanized bucket.

She froze in the arm-lifted position for several seconds, staring at
the dully glowing egg. Then she slowly reached out and picked it up. It
was slightly heavier than a regular egg, but for the dull, gold-bronze
metallic appearance of the shell, looked just like any of the other
twenty-odd eggs in the bucket. She was still holding it in the palm of
her hand when the kitchen door again slammed and the handy man limped
into the room. He carried two pails of milk across the kitchen and set
them down near the sink.

"Whatcha lookin' at, Miz Thompson?" Barney Hatfield asked.

Hetty frowned at the egg in her hand without answering. Barney limped
around the side of the table for a closer look. Sunlight streaming
through the kitchen windows glinted on the shell of the odd egg.
Barney's eyes grew round. "Now ain't that something," he whispered in
awe.

Hetty started as though someone had snapped their fingers in front of
her staring eyes. Her normal look of practical dubiousness returned.

"Huh," she snorted. "Even had me fooled for a second. Something wrong
with this egg but it sure is shootin' ain't gold. One of them fool hens
must of been pecking