She did not shed a tear,
and she bore it in silence; but a hard feeling came into her heart, and
she determined that she would never forgive this Miss Gordon who had
entrapped her father (so she put it), and was coming to rule over them
and order them about. She, for one, would never submit to it.

Jack did not mind it in the least, and Cynthia, who idolized her father,
was sure from what he said that he was doing what he considered was for
his happiness. Of course it was terrible for them, but they must make
the best of it.

They passed a dreary Sunday, but Monday was expected to be an exciting
day, for on that date the chickens were to appear. But when the children
returned from school there were but small signs of the anticipated hatch
in the incubator; one shell only had a little crack on the end.

Cynthia took up her position in front of the machine with a book, and
waited patiently hour after hour. Nothing came. The next morning there
was another crack in the next egg, and the first had spread a little,
but that was all. The children all went to school but Edith, and she
felt too low-spirited to go down to the cellar to watch.

Janet and Willy were forbidden to go near the place. As punishment for
their conduct on Saturday, they were not to be present at the hatching.
It was thought that owing to what they had done the chickens were not
forth-coming, and indeed it had been most disastrous.

When Jack and Cynthia returned from school they found that two little
chicks--probably the only two which had escaped the cold bath--had
emerged from their shells, and were hopping dismally about in the gravel
beneath the trays. One hundred and ninety-eight hoped-for companions
failed to appear.

Jack's first hatch was anything but a success. He bore it bravely, but
it was a bitter disappointment. After waiting many hours in the vain
hope of seeing another shell crack, he removed the two little comrades
to the large brooder built to hold a hundred, and then, nothing daunted,
sent for more eggs. He still had some of Aunt Betsey's money left.

Jack was plucky, and his pride would not permit him to give up. He would
profit by his experience, and next time he would be victorious. He
feared that, besides the mischief done by the children, he had been
overfussy in his care of the eggs, and he determined to act more wisely
in every respect.

In after-years Cynthia looked back upon the first hatch as one of the
most depressin