rs. Si
was tall, and almost as broad as the door itself, with the rosiest cheeks
and the bluest eyes I had ever beheld, and they crinkled with loveliness
around their corners. She had white water-waves that escaped their decorous
plastering into waving little tendril curls, and her mouth was as curled
and red-lipped and dimpled as a girl's. In a twinkling of those blue eyes I
fell out of the carriage into a pair of strong, soft, tender arms covered
with stiff gray percale, and received two hearty kisses, one on each cheek.

"God bless you, honeybunch, and I'm glad William has brought you home at
last, the rascal." As she hugged me she reached out a strong hand and gave
father first a good shake by his shoulder and then by his hand.

"Fine girl, eh, Mary?" answered father as he returned the shoulder shake
with a pat on the broad gray percale back, and retained the strong hand in
his, with a frank clinging.

I wondered if--

"She's her Aunt Mary's blessed child, and I will have her making riz
biscuits like old Madam Craddock's black Sue for you two boys in less than
a week," she answered him, with a laugh that somehow sounded a bit dewy.

"Oh, do you know about chickens, Mrs.--I mean, Aunt Mary?" I asked as I
clung to the hand to which father was not clinging.

"Bless my heart, what's that I see setting up on old Madam Craddock's
cushions? Is it a rooster or a dream bird?" she answered me by exclaiming
as she caught sight of Mr. G. Bird sitting in lonely state, but as good as
gold, upon the rose-leather cushions. "I thought I feathered out the finest
chickens in the Harpeth Valley, but this one isn't human, you might say,"
and as she spoke she shook off father and me, and approached the carriage
and peered in with the reverence of a real poultry artist. "Bless my
heart!" she again exclaimed.

"Those are just Miss Nancy's whims to take the place of her card-routs and
sinful dancing habits," said Uncle Cradd, with a great and indulgent
amusement as all the little crowd of native friends gathered around to look
at the Bird family.

"Say, that rooster ought to have been met with a brass band like they did
Mr. Cummins' horse, Lightheels, after he won all those cups up in the races
at Cincinnati," said the tallest of the young farmers, whose ears had begun
to assume their normal color.

"And a sight more right he has to such a honor, Bud Beesley," replied Aunt
Mary, with spirit, as she stroked the proud head of the Gol