Janet and Willy, the inseparable but ever-fighting pair, came in at the side door, not very long after Edith went to the village. They found the house empty and the coast clear, and their active brains immediately set to work to solve the question of what mischief they could do.
They wandered into the big silent kitchen. The servants were upstairs, and beyond the buzzing of a fly on the window-pane and the singing of the kettle on the range perfect quiet reigned.
"Let's go down and see the inkerbaker," suggested Willy.
"All right," returned Janet, affably, and down they pattered as fast as their sturdy little legs could carry them.
They peered in through the glass front at the eggs, which lay so peacefully within.
"It must be turrible stupid in there," said Janet, pityingly. "Shouldn't you think those chickens would be tired of waiting to come out?"
"Yes. We might crack a lot and help 'em out."
"Oh, no. Jack says they won't be ready for two days. But I'll tell you what we might do. We might see whether it's hot enough for 'em in there. I guess Jack's forgotten all about 'em. I don't believe he's been near 'em to-day, nor Martha, either."
"How d'yer find out whever it's hot enough?"
"I don't know. Guess you open the door, and put your hand in and feel."
For Janet had never been taught the significance of the thermometer inside, and knew nothing of the proper means of ventilating the machine.
No sooner said than done. One of the doors was promptly opened, and two fat hands were thrust into the chamber.
"My goodies, it's hot there!" cried Janet. "We ought to cool it off. Let's leave the door open and turn down the lamp, and open the cellar window."
Mounted on an old barrel, Janet, at the risk of her life, struggled in vain with the window. She chose one that was never used, and it refused to respond to her efforts. Then she descended, and returned to the incubator.
"Can't do it," she said. "But I'll tell you what we'll do."
"Pour some ice water over 'em. That'll cool 'em nicely."
They travelled up the cellar stairs to the "cooler," which stood in the hall.
"Wish we had a pitcher," said Janet. "You take the tum'ler, and I'll get a dipper."
It required several journeys to and fro to sufficiently cool the eggs, according to their way of thinking, but at last it was accomplished, with much dripping of water and splashing of clean clothes.