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they decided that they might as well quit.
Being fairly close to the Lilly house, Mr.
Lilly invited them in for a drink. Mrs. Lilly heard them enter and
called down from upstairs, "Who's there?"
"Me," said Mr. Lilly.
"And who've you got with you?"
"Mr. Merriam and Mr. Dickson."
"Tell them to go home," said Mrs. Lilly sharply.
"But I've invited them in for a drink."
"I don't care. Tell them to go home," she growled. "I don't
want those muddy people in my clean house."
Mr. Lilly looked at his guests and shrugged his shoulders
while my father and Mr. Merriam took the only course open to them.
The property adjoining the
Merriams on Concord Road be- longed to the Grant Walkers. The huge
house burned to the ground when I was quite young. It was
across the valley from us, and I can remember seeing billows of black
smoke pouring into the air. After the fire the Walkers built
a brick house which was later acquired by Weston College and is still
standing.
My family had a kerosene incubator for hatching chickens.
Occasionally, during the incubation period, the eggs were taken
out and held in front of a special lamp to see how they were do- ing.
Those that tested positive were returned to the hatching
trays; the negatives, rejected.
Once the rejects got mixed with a batch of fresh eggs that we sold
to Cutting's Store, and some of them managed to find their way to the
Walkers. At breakfast, when Mrs. Walker opened her soft boiled egg, she
was distressed to find an undeveloped |
