"You must keep chickens," said another neighbor, a sort of two-edged woman, who dwelt over across the swamp and whose scolding voice could be heard for miles. So Steve bought thirteen hens and a rooster. "You must have a cow," said a fourth neighbor, and he promptly sold Steve a cantankerous beast that wanted to rival him in authority, and indeed for a time ran the place. "You must have a cat," said an old woman who wanted to get rid of an unamiable Thomas, and Steve brought him home in a sack caterwauling all the way. "You must get a dog," said a man who had a bull terrier for sale. "I've got one!" bawled Steve--the man was deaf. "Bull terrier?" "No, Scotch! and he's all I want!" and Steve closed the front door with needless vigor. "What did you buy those nasty hens for?" asked Nannie, who did not like chickens. "Oh, they'll give us something good to eat. It will be so nice to go out every morning and bring in some new-laid eggs for breakfast. You'll like to do that, Nannie." "I guess you'd better," she said with a peculiar look. So the next morning Steve tiptoed out, through the wet grass, to the hen-house, in his dressing-gown and slippers, he was so eager to pluck this new fruit. He came in empty-handed, but cheerful. "We could hardly expect them to lay the first day; they have got to get their bearings." Every morning before breakfast Steve took this little walk. There was soon a well-beaten track between the back door and the hen-house. He always returned empty-handed, and Nannie watched with an impish smile from an upper window. One morning she came upon him in the act of taking off a white door-knob. "What _are_ you doing?" she demanded. He looked guilty, but answered with a fair show of spirit: "I'm going to put this in one of the nests. You see, they must think a hen has been there and laid it." Nannie burst into a laugh. "Well, I wouldn't waste time eating the eggs of hens that would be such fools as to think any poor old chicken had laid that door-knob!" But Steve put it in, nevertheless. And still morning after morning, with lowered head and dragging footstep, he returned to the house alone--still alone; not so much as a single egg as companion. Then it was that a pair of imp-like, black eyes danced 'neath the careless ringlets above them. "How would you like your door-knob this morning--hard or soft?" This raillery went on day after day until even Steve--gentle, patient Steve had enough. He looked up at the window and said quietly, but firmly: "There, Nannie, drop it, if you please." "On toast?" she screamed, and Steve went into the house. But his triumph was near at hand, for one morning, about four weeks after he had bought the chickens, he discovered something besides the door-knob in one of the nests, and forthwith came strutting toward the house, holding the egg on high that Nannie might see it from the window of her room.