d it up till it died. Nibletts certified the cause of death as
that unmentionable complaint, the pip.

Still no eggs, notwithstanding repeated appeals in the sacred name of
_Macduff_. We did, however, find out what the trouble was.

The hens were eating the eggs!

Nibletts said--under his breath--that they were what was known as
"blighters." He recommended (deprecating the term) a "stodger." A
"stodger" proved to be an egg-shell stuffed with bread-crumbs, mustard
and the strongest photographic ammonia.

My aunt said it would be cruel. It was certainly rough on me. Nibletts
apologetically directed me to blow an egg--"a shop 'un 'd do."
Accordingly, following his instructions, I injected or otherwise
introduced the ingredients through a small aperture. It was the
bread-crumbs that gave me most trouble; but it was the photographic
ammonia that was "cruel." The mustard went in quite easily with a
squirt.

I stopped the holes with paper stuck on with sealing-wax and put
the _oeuf farci_ in the run. I waited to see what would happen. It
happened at once. All ten hens went for that egg in a convergent
attack, and all ten pecks got home simultaneously. The deputation then
hurriedly withdrew, with loud protests, and spent the rest of the day
wiping their beaks in the cool earth.

But they remained recalcitrant. They systematically cannibalized. A
cackle from the layer brought all the rest to the spot; and I simply
couldn't stay there all day to forestall the onslaught.

Nibletts suggested our getting a patent laying-box, furnished with
(what he apologised to my aunt for calling) a false front. My aunt did
not at first grasp the idea, but what Nibletts did in fact refer
to was a contrivance that would admit one sitter only at a time,
subsequent unauthorised entrance being cut off by an ingenious drop
slide. Further elaborate construction also prevented the sitter
herself from turning round to peck. She had to remain sitting till
some human came and lifted her out.

Just one egg was laid in that patent box. The object of it was also
patent--to the hens. Nothing would induce them to use it after that
once.

Nibletts then recommended (if he might so describe it) a "tit-up."
That was, so to speak, a conjuring-trick of a laying-box, which let
the egg fall through a trap-door into a padded cell beneath. My
aunt thought it unnatural and feared that it might be exhausting.
Nevertheless we tried it, and extracted one solitary