ED DISH

Wednesday morning dawned clear and bright. From over Providence Nob the
round red old sun looked jovially and encouragingly down upon
Providence, up and stirring at an unusually early hour, for in the
mid-week came Sewing Circle day and the usual routine of work must be
laid by before the noon meal, and every housewife in condition to
forgather at the appointed place on the stroke of one. Mrs. Peavey had
aroused the protesting Buck at the peep of dawn, the Pikes were all up
and breakfasting by the first rays of light that fell over the Ridge,
and the Hoover biscuits had been baked in the Pratt oven and handed
across the fence fifteen minutes agone. Down the road Mr. Petway was
energetically taking down the store shutters and Mr. Mosbey was
building the blacksmith shop fire. Cindy had milked and started
breakfast and Mother Mayberry had begun the difficult task of getting
the Doctor up and ready for the morning meal. Martin Luther had had a
glass of warm milk and was ready for an energetic attack upon his first
repast.

Above, in her room under the gables, the singer lady had been awakened
by the brushing of a white-capped old locust bough against her casement
as it attempted to climb with all its bloom into her dormer window. As
she looked through the mist, a long golden shaft of light shot across
the white flowers and turned the tender green leaves into a bright
yellow. Suddenly a desire to get up and look across at the Nob
possessed her, for the arrival of the sun upon the scene of action was
a sight that held the decided charm of novelty. And on this particular
morning she found it more than worth while. Providence lay at her feet
like a great bouquet of lilacs, locust and fruit blossoms. The early
mist was shot through with long spears of gold and the pale smoke
curled up from the brick chimneys and mingled its pungent wood-odor
with the perfume laden air. She drank in great drafts of exhilaration
and delighted her eyes with the picture for a number of minutes, until
an intoxicating breakfast aroma began to steal up from Cindy's domain.
Then, spurred by a positive agony of hunger, it took the singer lady
the fewest possible number of minutes to complete a dainty and most
ravishing breakfast toilet.

"Why, honey-bird," exclaimed Mother Mayberry as she descended the steps
and found them all at breakfast in the wide-open dining-room, "what did
you get up so soon for? It's Wednesday and the Sewing Circle m