he eggs from which they were
hatched, and no wonder she honestly believed they were her own
children. To confess the truth, they did look so much like chickens,
that a city boy like Oscar would hardly have suspected they were
turkeys, if he had not been told that they were. They were black, and
of about the size of chickens of their age. They had also the sharp,
piping cry of genuine chickens. But their necks were a little longer
than usual, and that was almost the only badge of their turkeyhood.
The hen was confined to the tree by a string, to prevent her roving
off. A barrel turned upon its side, served them for a house at night.

There was another hen, confined under a tree near by, which was the
proud mother of a large brood of chickens. There were about
twenty-five of them, but though they now constituted one brood, they
were hatched by two hens. Clinton said he usually managed to set two
hens together, so that one of them might bring up all the chickens,
thereby saving some trouble for himself, as well as one hen's time,
which was of some value to him. Hens do not seem to have much
knowledge of arithmetic, and biddy was apparently unconscious of any
difference between twelve and five-and-twenty.

A loud and prolonged "Cock-a-doodle-do-o-o-o" now attracted Oscar to
the hen-yard near by, behind the barn, where the rest of Clinton's
poultry were confined. It was a large enclosure, connected with a
shed, in which the fowls roosted and laid their eggs. Its occupants,
and indeed all the poultry on the place were the exclusive property of
Clinton, and he took the entire management of them in his own hands.
He raised the corn they consumed on a patch of ground his father gave
him for the purpose. He sold his eggs, chickens, and turkeys to whom
he pleased, and kept a regular account in a book of all his business
transactions. Of course, all the money he made was his own, and he
told Oscar he had nearly seventy-five dollars in the bank, which he had
earned in this way.

"I don't see how you do it," said Jerry; "I could n't make anything
that way if I should try. I don't believe our hens more than pay their
way, if they do that."

"If you should manage as I do, I guess you would make something,"
replied Clinton.

"No, it isn't my luck," said Jerry; "if I worked ever so hard, I should
n't be any better off for it."

"I don't believe that," said Clinton; "there 's no luck about it. Any
boy could make out