s crazy
about the apple-blossom darling as I am, you specially, Bess Rutherford,"
I answered, with pleased indignation.

"Ann, I do wish you could have seen her in that frilled white thing with
the two huge blue bows at the ends of the long plaits at my dinner-dance
the other night, standing and looking at everybody with all the fascination
and coquetry of--of--well, that little Golden Bird peeping at us from the
left-hand corner of Mrs. Red Ally's right wing. Where _did_ she get that
frock?"

"Do you suppose that a woman who runs a farm dairy of fifty cows, while her
husband banks and post-offices and groceries would be at all routed by a
few yards of lace and muslin and a current copy of 'The Woman's Review'?
Aunt Mary made that dress between sun-up and -down and worked out fifty
pounds of butter as well," I answered, with a glow of class pride in my
rustic breast.

"All of that is what is seething in my blood until I can't stand it," said
Bess as we walked towards the barn-door. "The reason I just feel like
devouring Polly Corn-tassel is that somehow she seems to taste like bread
and butter to me; I'm tired of life served with mayonnaise dressing with
tabasco and caviar in it.

"Yes, a Romney herb-pot is better," I said, as a strange chant began to
play itself on my heartstrings with me alone for a breathless audience.

"And if you come in on Saturday you can--" Bess was saying in a positive
tone that admitted of no retreat, when Matthew's huge blue car came around
the drive from the front of Elmnest and stopped by Bess's roadster. On the
front seat sat Matthew, and Corn-tassel was beside him, but the rest of the
car was piled high with huge sacks of grain, which looked extremely
sensible and out of place in the handsomest car in the Harpeth Valley.

"Oh, Miss Ann, Mr. Matthew and I found the greatest bargain in winter
wheat, and the man opened every sack and let me run my arm to the elbow in
it. It is all hard and not short in a single grain. We are going to trade
you half." And Polly's blue eyes, which still looked like the
uncommercialized violet despite a six weeks' acquaintance with society in
Hayesville, danced with true farmer delight.

"It's warranted to make 'em lay in night shifts, Ann," said Matthew as he
beamed down upon me with a delight equal to Polly's, and somehow equally as
young. "Where'll I put it? In the feed-room in the bins?"

"Yes, and they are almost empty. I was wondering what I would