a disagreeable one to what she knew by
experience would prove at least interesting.

"It's a heap better," answered Mrs. Peavey promptly.

"Oh, I'm so glad," exclaimed Mother, immediately beginning to beam with
pride. "I told you Tom could help it with that new kind of dry plaster
he made for you. Ain't it wonderful?"

"Shoo! I never put that on! It didn't have smell enough to do any good.
I knew that as soon as I unrolled it. I just rubbed myself heavy with
that mixture of kerosine, vinegar and gum camfire you've been making me
for twenty years, and I slept uncommon well."

"Oh," answered Mother Mayberry, "I wish you had tried Tom's plaster. I
feel sure--"

"Well, I don't--of anything that a boy like Tom Mayberry knows. If he
lives here a spell and learns from you maybe he'll get some doctoring
sense, but I wouldn't trust him for ten years at the shortest. But have
you heard the news?" A flame of positive joy flared up in Mrs. Peavey's
eyes and flushed her sallow cheeks.

"Why, what is it?" asked Mother with a guarded interest and no small
amount of anxiety, for she was accustomed to the kind of news that Mrs.
Peavey usually took the trouble to spread.

"Well, I knowed what was a-going to happen when I seen Bettie Pratt
setting the chairs straight and marshaling in the orphants at poor Mis'
Hoover's funeral, not but eleven months ago. It'll be a scandal to this
town and had oughter be took notice of by Deacon Bostick and the Elder.
She's got four Turner children and six Pratts and he have got seven of
his own, so Turner, Pratt and Hoover they'll be seventeen children in
the house, all about the same size. Then maybe more--I call it a
disgrace, I do!"

"I don't know," answered Mother, though her eyes did twinkle at the
thought of this allied force of seventeen, "there never was a better
child-raiser than Bettie Pratt and I'll be mighty glad to see them
poor, forlorn little Hoovers turned over to her. They've been on my
mind night and day since they mother died and they ain't a single one
of 'em as peart as it had oughter be. Who told you about it?"

"They didn't nobody tell me--I've got eyes of my own! Just yesterday I
seen her hand a pan of biscuits over the fence to Pattie Hoover and he
had a Turner and two Pratts in the wagon with him coming in from the
field last night. But you can't do nothing about it--she have got the
marrying habit. They are other widows in this town that have mourned
respectable to s