The idea was worthy, but eggs were not so easy to procure. A visit to the hen-house proved that the day's supply had already been gathered. Then, though Robinson Crusoe would hardly have done it, we applied at the kitchen. But Grandmother Toppan, who might have humored our whim, was away from home. The Power temporarily in command dismissed our request brusquely:-- "Ye byes git outer here, now, or I'll be afther takin' the paddle to yez." We did not know what paddle was referred to, but we understood that we had leave to withdraw. We wondered if Robinson Crusoe ever met with humiliating rebuffs like that. It was impossible; no tyrannous cook could lord it over him while he carried that long gun. But we had no gun, so, in dejection and despair, we wandered again toward the sand-pit. As we crossed the orchard, a startling event occurred. Some large bird rustled off through the grass, and in the little round hollow where she had been sitting gleamed four white objects. It was enough to renew our trust in the gods who favor the romantic in their everlasting encounters with the practical folk of the world. For here were eggs! And eggs obtained under conditions that our friend Crusoe need not have scorned. To us the adventure said in no unmistakable tones: Abase yourself not before cooks when your spoil is at hand. Trust Providence, as did the Swiss Family Robinson. We hurried to the sand-pit, kindled the fire, and put in the eggs. I refuse to dwell upon their condition when we took them out, or on the difficulty attendant upon eating the two that remained unbroken, or what these tasted like. People who think that the carnal joy of eating is of much importance at these camp-fires have vulgar, prosaic minds. We heard the dinner-bell ringing just as we disposed of the second egg, and we hurried toward the house. Ten minutes later (for it takes some time to remove from one's face and hands the evidences of a feast of roasted eggs) we appeared at the dinner-table. It was a long one, with Uncle Will at one end, Uncle Charley at the other. The eggs had not spoiled our appetites, and we ate, with nothing to disturb our pleasure, up to the point when blueberry pie came on. Then Uncle Will, his carving duties over, and his own share of the dinner consumed, leaned back in his chair and addressed Uncle Charley:-- "I was over at Bartlett's last night." "That so?" returned Uncle Charley. "Did you speak about the peacocks?" "About the peahen that's setting in the orchard? Yes. He knew she had been setting there on nothing for three days. The eggs came from New York yesterday, and he said he was going to send Foley over with them this morning." Aunt Ellen showed an interest in the conversation. "Eggs from New York?" she queried.