"

"Allow it! I never touch another man's gun. Nobody comes in here but
Feng, and he doesn't matter. What's a Chink more or less?"

"But it's the _principle_. And what's this--down here? Why, Casey,
it's--it's a _hen!_"

It was a hen. In a space between two piles of newspapers, flanked by a
cigar box, squatted a white fowl, very intent upon her own affairs.

"Shoo!" said Sheila. But the bird merely cocked a bright eye at her,
and uttered a little warning, throaty sound. Casey laughed.

"That's Fluffy, and she's a lady friend of mine. Poor old Fluff, poor
old girl! Don't scare her, Sheila. Can't you see she's busy?"

"Casey Dunne, do you mean to tell me that you allow a hen to lay in
your sitting room, on your _table?_"

"Of course--when she's a nice little chicken like Fluffy. Why not? She
doesn't do any harm."

"I never heard of such a thing. The place for hens is in the chicken
run. Casey, you're simply _awful!_ Your wife--oh, heavens, what a life
she'll have!"

"Nobody could help liking Fluff," he replied. "She's really good
company. I wish I could talk her talk. She has a fine line of
conversation if I could only savvy it."

Sheila sat down with a hopeless gesture. Fond of all living things as
she was, she could not understand the tolerance that allowed a hen the
run of the house. To her a hen was a hen, nothing more. She could name
and pet a horse or a dog or any quadruped. But a hen! She could not
understand.

But Feng entered with the two "ice drink"--a tray containing long
glasses, tinkling ice, claret, lemons, cake, and biscuits. He set the
tray upon the table. As he did so his hand came in contact with Fluffy.
With a rasping cry of indignation she pecked him.

"Hyah!" cried Feng, startled, and reached for her impulsively.

Fluffy bounded from her nest, and fled shrieking for the door. Her
fluttering wings brushed the contents of the tray. The long glasses and
bottle capsized, rolled to the floor, and smashed, the crash of glass
mingling with her clamour.

"What foh?" yelled Feng, in a fury. "Jim Kli, dam chickum spoiley icey
dlink. _Hiyu_ no good--all same son of a gun! S'pose me catch him, ling
him neck!" And he darted after the hen, on vengeance bent.

But Casey caught him by the collar. "Never mind, Feng. That chicken all
same my _tillikum_, you savvy. _Hiyu_ good chicken; lay _hiyu_ egg. You
catch more ice drink!"

And when the angry Celestial had gone he lay back in his chair, and
lau