rge families to raise or if she wishes she'd been a rooster
and maybe been fried in her youth."

Deep thinking was too much for Mrs. Buck. She stopped peeling potatoes
and fell into a brown study. The side porch was a pleasant place to
sit and dream. Judith had sorted out her wares and stored them in the
back of her blue car. She had caught two chickens and dressed them
and set a sponge for the hot rolls. She had promised herself the
pleasure of serving the motorman and conductor a trial supper whose
excellence she was sure would bring in dozens of orders.

A whirr from the barn and in a moment Judith was off and away, leaving
a cloud of dust behind her.

"No hurry about the potatoes!" she called as she passed the house, and
then her voice trailed off with, "I'll be back by and by."

"Just like the old woman on a broomstick in Mother Goose," Mrs. Buck
informed the hen and then since there was no hurry about the potatoes
she fell to dreaming again. It was very peaceful on the shady porch
with that whirlwind of a Judy gone for several hours on one of her
crazy peddling jaunts. What a girl she was for plunging! Again the
mother wondered where she came from and for the ten thousandth time
agreed with herself that it must be the blood of the Norse sailor
cropping out in her energetic daughter.

"It might have been the Bucks way back yonder somewhere. Certainly she
didn't get any up-and-doing from old Dick Buck or my poor husband."
Mrs. Buck always thought and spoke of her husband as her poor
husband. That was because he had died in the first year of their
marriage. Perhaps a merciful Providence had taken him off before he
had time to develop to any great extent the traits that made his
father, old Dick Buck, a by-word in the county as being the laziest
and most altogether no-account white man in Kentucky.

Her thoughts drifted back to her childhood in New England. She could
barely remember the old white farmhouse with its faded green shutters
that rattled so dismally in the piercing winds that seemed to single
out the Knight house as it swept down between the hills. She recalled
vividly the discussion carried on between her parents in regard to
their mode of moving West--whether by wagon or rail--and the final
decision to go by wagon because in that way they might save not only
railroad fare but the bony team. Furniture was packed ready for
shipment and stored in a neighbor's barn until they were sure in just
what par