or
Sister Viney's birthday," exclaimed Uncle Tucker, as amid generous
applause the offering was landed on a table set near the rocker.

And again at this auspicious moment a huge waiter covered with little
mountains of white ice-cream made its appearance through the front
door, impelled by the motive power of Mr. Mark Everett's elegantly
white-flannel-trousered legs, and guided to a landing beside the cake
by Rose Mary, who was a pink flower of smiles and blushes.

Then it followed that in less time than one would think possible the
company at large was busy with a spoon attached to the refreshments
which to Sweetbriar represented the height of elegance. Out in the
world beyond Old Harpeth ice-cream and cake may have lost caste as a
fashionable afternoon refreshment, having been succeeded by the
imported custom of tea and scones or an elaborate menu of reception
indigestibles, but in the Valley nothing had ever threatened the
supremacy of the frozen cream and white-frosted confection. The men
all sat on the end of the long porch and accepted second saucers and
slices and even when urged by Rose Mary, beaming with hospitality,
third relays, while the Swarm in camp on the front steps, under the
General's management, seconded by Everett, succeeded in obtaining
supplies in a practically unlimited quantity.

"Looks like Miss Rose Mary's freezer ain't got no bottom at all," said
Mr. Rucker in his long drawl as he began on a fourth white mound. "It
reminds me of 'the snow, the snow what falls from Heaven to earth
below,' and keeps a-falling." Mr. Rucker was a poet at heart and a
husband to Mrs. Rucker by profession, and his flights were regarded by
Sweetbriar at large with a mixture of pride and derision.

"Cal," said Mrs. Rucker sternly, "don't you eat more'n half that
saucer. I've got no mind to top off this here good time with mustard
plasters all around. Even rejoicings can get overfed and peter out
into ginger tea. Jennie, you and Sammie and Pete stop eating right
now. Lands alive, the sun has set and we all know Miss Viney oughter
be in the house. Shoo, everybody go home to save your manners!" And
with hearty laughs and further good-by congratulations the happy
little company of farmer folk scattered to their own roof trees across
and along Providence Road. The twilight had come, but a very young
moon was casting soft shadows from the trees rustling in the night
breezes and the stars were lighting up in competition t