I am pretty sure we were living at the Morgan place when Mother and Daddy ordered 25 little chicks from a mail order hatchery. They had the house cleaned out and every thing ready for the new babies. One day the mail man honked his car horn. Mother went out and found that he had brought the box (about 12 or 14 inches square with air holes punched in the sides and in the top of the lid, and an pad lay in the bottom) full of 25 peeping, cheeping chicks.
Mother was excited as she came form the mail box with the whole next year’s supply of both laying hens and frying roosters. With box under one arm and leading me with the other she took us all to the chicken house. She set the box of living peeps and cheeps on the floor and removed the top. She was about to show each little ball of fuzz where the feed and water was, when she suddenly remembered that she had left the burner of the kerosene cook stove going under our noon meal.
She told me to look carefully after the new little orphans, and away she went with confidence that her blooming little sprout could handle the job. I did. When she returned, she found how well! I had given each innocent, curious young life the most heartwarming hug and squeeze he or she would ever get. She probably ’t gone more than 5 minutes. Every little chick lay dead. That entire story is one I do not remember! But I’m certain it is true, for I’ heard it told over and over without a word of it missing.