"Oh, I had a little hen and she had a wooden leg
And nearly every morning she used to lay an egg—"
"Will you stop that racket, Rich! It's the real thing this time, I suppose?"
"She's the best little chicken that we have on the farm
And another little drink won't do us any harm—"
he finished, twisting out the corkscrew. Then he came over and sat down on the bed.
"Well," he said judicially, "since you drag it from me, I think perhaps it is. You—you're such a confirmed woman-hater that I hardly knew how you would take it."
"Nothing of the sort," I denied testily. "Because a man reaches the age of thirty without making maudlin love to every—"
"I've taken to long country rides," he went on reflectively, without listening to me, "and yesterday I ran over a sheep; nearly went into the ditch. But there's a Providence that watches
