ry frivolous life.

Now, of course, nobody in these advanced times thinks that it is not
absolutely possible, even easy, for a woman to live any kind of
constructive life she chooses entirely without assistance from a man, but
she'll get to the place she has started for just about a year after she
would have arrived if a man had happened along to do the sawing. The way my
friend Matthew Berry cut and hammered off one by one the directions on that
piece of paper in my smock pocket would have proved the proposition above
stated to any doubtful woman. And while Matthew and I had had many happy
times together at balls and parties and dinners and long flights in our
cars and at the theatre and opera, also in dim corners in gorgeous clothes,
I am sure we had never been so happy as we were that morning while we
labored together in the interest of Mr. G. Bird and family. We went beyond
the paper directions and delved in my book and hammered away until, when
Rufus, with stately coldness, announced some time after noon that dinner
was served, we both declared that it was impossible, though Matthew was at
that moment performing the last chore commanded by dusting the medicated
ashes under the last wing of the last Lady Leghorn, held tenderly in my
arms. The mash had been concocted and heated in the cleansed whitewash
bucket over a fire improvised by Matthew between two stones beside the
barn, because I did not dare disturb Rufus again, and the model nests were
all in place and ready for the downpour of pearls that we expected at any
time, and there was nothing left to do that we could think of or read about
in the book.

"Let's go in and get a bite with Father Craddock and the twin, and then
we'll read things to do this afternoon in the book where you got those
directions," said Matthew as he started towards the house in the wake of
Rufus' retiring apron.

I hadn't broken Pan to Matthew, and I didn't know exactly why. Perhaps I
didn't quite believe in the red-headed Peckerwood myself just then, and
felt unable to incarnate him to Matthew.

Uncle Cradd's welcome to Matthew was very stately and friendly when we went
in and found him and father in their high-back chairs on each side of the
table, waging the classic argument that Rufus had reported them to have
discontinued at an early hour of the morning. Father was delighted with the
package of books that Matthew had brought out with him in his car, because
father considered them