Michael and Donald, reconnoitring round an old farmhouse in France, found a warweary chicken. Michael was overjoyed. He was tired of bully beef and biscuits. “ That’s a bit of luck,” lie said. “ Sure, wo'll have a dacint supper to-night.” “ No, no,” said Donald, with his native cautiousness. “Let’s keep it till to-mor-row. It might lay an eggl”
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https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/ESD19181204.2.58.4
Bibliographic details
Evening Star, Issue 16908, 4 December 1918, Page 6
Word Count
57Page 6 Advertisements Column 4 Evening Star, Issue 16908, 4 December 1918, Page 6
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