to have knows all about raising chickens. It's trained specially. I'm thinking of going in for chicken farming, you know."
"Is that a fact, Mr. Noel?" breathed Dawson.
"Oh, yes," went on the deceiver of women. "You see, I don't know a thing about chickens, and all I'll have to do will be just to follow my arm about, so to speak. It can tell the age of a pullet to a day, just by pulling its leg. That's why they call a young hen a pullet, you know. As for eggs, it can find 'em anywhere. It doesn't matter how cleverly the old hens hide them, this arm of mine can smell 'em out as quick as winking."
Dawson gaped with astonishment.
"I never would have believed it, would you, m'lady?" exclaimed the dear old London-bred soul. "They do invent wonderful things these days, don't they now?"
"Oh, that's nothing," went on Noel mercilessly. "A chap I know lost both his legs in the war. He never was much of a sportsman, but he made up his mind he'd like to go in for golf. So they made him a specially trained pair of golf legs, and hang it all! the poor fellow has to play all day long now. The worst of it is he doesn't care much about it, now that he's had a taste of
