“You must know,” said Abel, “that every time a hen lays an egg the very first thing she does is to turn and look at it, as if to make sure it is really laid. Well, now, this machine which you behold is the Magic Hen’s Nest. There is a spring bottom to it, so that the instant the egg is dropped it will disappear. Then, when the fowl turns to see if it is there—lo! she’ll find it isn’t there. Whereupon, concluding she must have made a mistake, like a good creature she’ll sit down again, and presently out’ll come egg number two, which will likewise vanish through the trap. And so on and on and on, until—well, really, I can’t tell what may happen in the end, for of course there is a limit to all good things: the hen may lose her wits. But if she doesn’t—if she keeps her senses, and if I can force her to continue laying and laying—why, my fortune is made sure, and I’d not change places with old Howe and his sewing-machine—no, indeed I wouldn’t.” “Well, I declare!” ejaculated Marguerite when Abel was through with the explanation. “This is certainly a grand idea. Why, one hen will do the work of a score of hens.” “Of five hundred,” said Abel solemnly. “And I wrote some time ago to a couple of my acquaintances on Long Island, advising them to sell off every hen on their farm except one. But they are not willing to follow my advice; and, what’s more, they both came here last week when I was out, and asked all kinds of questions about my health. The fools! But never mind; it’s all the worse for them, for just as soon as I get out my patent down will go the price of hens to zero.” “Well, upon my word, this is wonderful, wonderful!” said Marguerite, kneeling and stroking the back of the stuffed chicken. “Ay, and I am filled with wonder at myself for having invented such a thing,” continued Abel. “But it only shows what the brain of man can do. And yet what man is able to accomplish now is nothing compared with what he will accomplish in the ages to come.” “Well, what is needed, sir, to make this Magic Nest perfect? It seems to me to be in good working order.” “Nothing remains to be done but to get a live hen and put it to the proof; though I have no more doubt of its success than I have of my own existence.” “Well, do let me be present when you make the trial. Will you?” “Yes, you may come, for you do not laugh and jeer at me like the rest of the world; and, moreover, there is something soothing in your presence. Oh! I believe if I had had you always by my side this Magic Nest would have been ready long ago.” “And when I come again,” said Marguerite a little timidly, “I’ll put the room in order—may I?” Here Abel’s brow lowered; but quickly the dark look passed away, for she was gazing so sweetly at him, and he said: “You perceive, then, that it is not in order? Well, you are right. I live all by myself and have no time to sweep and dust—no time.” “All by yourself!” repeated Marguerite compassionately.