but any part of such a chicken is good."

"Jack, you are putting in a whole lot that is not in that book just to
make me hungry. My mouth has been puckered up for half an hour to get a
bite of that 'yaller leg.' We are near Springfield; let's eat."

Suiting the action to the word they joined the motley throng in the rush
for the dining-room, as the train came to a stop for forty minutes.

Fresh Connecticut River shad and roe, new green peas, new potatoes in
cream, lettuce, radishes.

"There, that will kill your chicken fever for a time," said Jack, as he
ordered for both.

"You may order me a piece of lemon pie, Jack. I see some on the
sideboard and the meringue is about two inches thick."

"We want to go over and see the train for the north pull out; might see
some Bozrah people, Hazel," said Jack, after the dinner, "it leaves five
minutes before we do."

"Oh, sure enough, and there are a lot of students just going home. I
suppose Chiquita is in Denver by this time."

"Hazel, there is old Deacon Petherbridge and Elam Tucker. I'll bet
they've been down to New Haven on a horse trade. You know Elam had the
big livery stable that burned down when you were eight and I was just
eleven. You remember the Tucker boy was foolish and set fire to the hay,
'Wanted to see it burn,' he told the town marshal. But we must get
aboard."

The last beams of rose-tinted sunlight percolated through the gathering
darkness as the train sped on its way, winding in and out among the
hills of western Massachusetts. Hazel watched the fading panorama as it
dissolved in the gloom of the night. She was thinking of her happy
school days among those very hills through which she was now gliding, a
one-day bride, wife of her childhood lover. As the scenes vanished she
shyly snuggled a little closer and whispered, "Jack, we will always be
happy, won't we?"

"Why, yes; but what made you ask it?"

"Oh, just 'cause," continuing, "I kinder wish we had gone around by
Hoosac tunnel, we could have seen 'Old Bozrah' hills and"--

"I guess my new wife is a little homesick," consolingly interrupted
Jack. "Suppose we visit Old Bozrah when we come back and have a famous
time going nutting and picking autumn leaves"--

"And getting ivy poisoned so my face will be all spots next winter. I
guess not."

The obsequious, ebony-hued gem'man, in white coat with black buttons,
interrupted the first family differences.

"If yoh doan mind, I'd laik to fix up