ay nothing of Miss Prissy Pike, that have never had no
husband at all and had oughter be gave a chanct. Mr. Hoover are a nice
man and I don't want to see him made noticeable in no such
third-husband way."

"Course it do look a little sudden," said Mother, "and seventeen is a
good lot of children for one family, but if they love each other--"

"Love! Shoo! I declare, Mis' Mayberry, looks to me like you swallow
what folks give you in this world whole, pit and all, and never bat a
eye. I've got to go home and put on Buck's and Mr. Peavey's supper and
sprinkle down some of my wash." And without further parley Mrs. Peavey
marched home through a little swinging gate in the wall that had been
for years a gap through which a turbid stream had flowed to trouble
Mother's peaceful waters.

"It do seem Mis' Peavey are a victim of a most pitiful unrest," said
Mother to herself as she watched with satisfaction Ruffle Neck tuck the
last despised little Hoosier under her soft gray breast. "Some folks
act like they had dyspepsy of the mind. Dearie me, I must go and take a
glass of cream to my honey-bird, for that between-meal snack that Tom
Mayberry are so perticular about." And she started down toward the
spring-house under the hill.

And returning a half hour later with the cool glass in her hand, she
was guided by the sound of happy voices to the front porch, where,
under the purple wistaria vine, she found the singer lady absorbed in
the construction of a most worldly garment for the doll daughter of
Eliza Pike, who was watching its evolution with absorbed interest.

"Pleas'm, Miss Elinory, make it a little bit longer, 'cause I want her
to have a beau," besought the small mother, as she anxiously watched
the measuring of the skirt.

"Want her to have a beau?" asked Miss Wingate with the scissors
suspended over the bit of pink muslin which matched exactly her own
ruffled skirts.

"Yes'm! Pattie Hoover wored shoe-tops all winter and now she's got
foot-dresses and Buck Peavey for a beau."

"Oh, I see," said the singer lady as she smiled down into the eager
little face. "Do you think--er, beaux are--are desirable, Eliza?"

"Yes'm, I do," answered the bud of a woman, as she drew nearer and said
with an expression of one bestowing a confidence, "When I'm let down to
my feet I'm going to have Doctor Tom for my beau, if you don't get him
first."

"I'm sure you needn't worry about that, Eliza," Miss Wingate hastened
to exclaim w