chew you, so you can't forget them," I exclaimed in relief.

"That will be the exact plan for action, Nancy. You can always depend upon
me for any of the small attentions that please you, my dear."

"I can depend on the fur and feathers and wool tribes better than I can on
you, old dear," I said to myself, while I beamed on him with a dutiful,
"Thank you, sir."

Then as Bud Corn-tassel had arrived to begin to hitch up the moth-eaten
steeds to the ark, I ascended to my room to shed my farmer smocks, for the
first time since my incarnation into them, and attire myself for the world
again. The only garb of fashion I possessed, having sold myself out
completely on my retirement, was the very stylish, dull-blue tailor suit in
which I had traveled out the Riverfield ribbon almost three months before.
But as that had been mid-February, it was of spring manufacture, and I
supposed would still be able to hold its own.

"It's perfectly beautiful, but it feels tight and hampering," I said as I
descended to enter the coach Bud had driven around to the front door.

"Will you give me a guarantee that you aren't just a dream lady I'll lose
again in the city, Miss Nancy?" asked Bud, as he handed me into the
Grandmother Craddock coach with great ceremony. Gale Beacon couldn't have
done any better on such short notice.

"I'll be in smocks at feeding-time in the morning, Bud, just as you will be
in overalls," I answered laughingly.

"My, but you are a sight!" said Mrs. Tillett, as she handed up Baby Tillett
to me, with such a beaming countenance that I knew she meant a
complimentary construction to be placed upon her words. "Now, just take up
them little girls and set 'em down easy, Mr. Bud, on account of their
ruffles, and ram the boys in between to hold 'em steady. Now, boys, if you
muss up the girls I'll make every one of you wear your shoes all day
to-morrow to teach you manners. Go on, Mr. Bud."

Thus nicely packed away, we started on down the Riverfield ribbon at the
head of the procession, followed by Uncle Silas driving Aunt Mary's
rockaway, with his beautiful, dappled, shining, gray mules hitched to it,
and beside him sat Mrs. Addcock in serene confidence in being driven by a
man who could drive a bank and a post-office and a grocery. Mamie and
Gertie Spain were spread out carefully on the back seat, with only one
small masculine Spain for a wedge. The Buford buggy, all spick and span
from its first spring washing and pol