hered in his coat
sleeve.

"Dearie girl," he exclaimed, looking down with delight at a small
section of blush left visible against the rough blue serge of his coat,
"you and Mother are--"

"Sakes, you folks, I wish you'd try to listen when you are called at!"
came in a sharp voice as Mrs. Peavey looked down upon them from over
the wall near the barn. "One of them foolish Indiany chickens are
stretched out kicking most drowned in a puddle right by the barn door,
and there you both stand doing nothing for it. Tom Mayberry, pick it up
this minute and give it to me! I'm a-going to put it behind my stove
until Mis' Mayberry comes home. I've got some feeling for her love of
chickens, _I_ have."

"Oh, I didn't see it!" exclaimed Miss Wingate, in an agony of regret.
"The dear little thing! Give it to me and I'll take care of it."

"Fiddlesticks! Chickens ain't 'dear little things,' and I wouldn't
trust neither one of you to take care of a flea of mine, with your
philandering. Hand it here to me, Tom Mayberry, like I tell you!" And
the Doctor hastened to pick up the little gasping bunch of drenched
feathers, which Mrs. Peavey tucked in the corner of her shawl "Did you
all hear that a car busted into another one down in the City day before
yesterday and throwed the driver and broke a lady's arm and cut a
baby's leg shameful? It was in the morning paper I saw down to the
store; and a wind storm blew off a man's roof too."

"I haven't read the paper yet," answered the singer lady in the subdued
voice she always used in addressing Mother Mayberry's pessimistic
neighbor.

"Well, you oughter take interest in accidents if you are a-going to be
a Doctor's wife. It'll be all in the family then and you can hear it
all straight and maybe see some folks mended," answered Mrs. Peavey,
and she failed to notice Miss Wingate's horrified expression at such a
prospect. "How's Mis' Bostick, Tom? That is, how do your Mother say she
are, for I couldn't trust your notion in such a case as her'n."

"I think Mother feels worried over her to-day," answered the Doctor
gently, with not a trace of offense at his neighbor's outspoken
question. "Her heart is very weak and it is impossible to stimulate her
further. Mother is up there now and I'll come tell you what she says
when she comes home to dinner."

"Well, I'm always thankful for news, bad as it mostly are," answered
Mrs. Peavey in gloomy gratitude for his offer of a report from Mother
Maybe