quickly i released myself from his arm and flew to kneel in front of the metal mother, with the electric torch aimed directly into the little window that revealed all her inmost processes. the peckerwood pan hovered just at my shoulder, and together we beheld what was to me the most wonderful phenomenon of nature that had ever come my way. no sunset from pike's peak or high note from the throat of caruso could equal it in my estimation. behold, the first baby bird stepped forth into the world right before my astonished and enraptured eyes! it was in this manner.
"look, right here next to the glass," said adam, as he put his finger against the lower left-hand corner of the peep window, and there i directed my torch. one of the great white pearls had a series of little holes around one end of it, and while i gazed a sharp little beak was thrust suddenly from within it. the shell fell apart, and out stepped the first small leghorn bird with an assurance that had an undoubted resemblance to that of his masculine parent. for a moment he blinked and balanced; then he stretched his small wings and shook himself, an operation that seemed to fluff about fifty per cent. of the moist aspect from his plump little body, and then he deliberately turned and looked into my wide-opened eyes. i promptly gasped and sat down on the barn floor, with my head weakly cuddled against adam's knee.
"two more here on the right-hand side, woman," said adam, as he knelt beside me, took the torch, supported me in my reaction of astonishment, and showed me where a perfect little batch of babies was being born. "whew, farmer craddock, but those are fine chickens! heaven help us, but they are all exploding at one time! only eggs of one hundred per cent. vigor and fertility hatch that way. look at the moisture gathering on the glass. if you put your hand in there you would find it about a hundred and ten."
"oh, look! g. bird junior, the first, is almost dry. please, please let me take him in my hand!" i exclaimed as that five-minute-old baby pressed close up against the glass and blinked at the light and us bewitchingly.
"you mustn't open the door for at least twelve hours now. come away before the temptation overcomes you," commanded pan.
"wait twelve hours to take that fluff-ball in my hands? adam, you are cruel," i said, as he pocketed the torch and left the drama of birth dark and without footlights. as he padded away towards the moonlit barn-door, i followed him in reluctant protest.
"do you see that tall pine outlined against the sky over there on paradise ridge, woman?" asked adam, with the pan lights and laugh coming back into his farmer eyes and voice. "i have got to be there an hour before dawn, and it is fifteen good miles or more. i want to roll against a log somewhere and sleep a bit, and it is now after ten o'clock. go get your bundle, and i'll hang it on my stick, and we will disappear into the forest forever. i know a hermit who'll put us in marriage bonds. come!" as he held out his arms adam began to chant the weird tune to that mate song of his own invention.
"you know i can't do that," i said as i went into his embrace and drank the chant down into my heart. "there are so many live things that i must stay to watch over. i—i'm their—mother as well as—as yours. they must be fed."
"god, there really is such a thing as a woman," said adam as he hid his smouldering eyes against my lips. "you'll be waiting when i come back, and you'll go with me the minute i call, if it's day or night? you'll be ready with your bundle?"
"you don't mean at daylight to-morrow, do you, pan, dear?" i asked, with one of the last laughs that my heart was to know, for sometimes, it seemed forever, rippling out past his crimson crests.
"no; listen to me, woman," said adam, as he held me tenderly on his right arm and took both my hands in his and held them pressed hard against my breast. "i am going away to-night, and i don't know when i can get back. i only knew to-day i'd have to go; that's why i—i took you and put my brand on your heart to-night. i can leave you aloose in the forest and know that i'll find you mine when i can come back. but, oh, come with me!"
"i wouldn't be your earth woman, adam, if i left all these helpless things. i'll wait for you, and no matter when you come i'll be ready. only, only you'll never take me quite away from them all, will you?"
"no; i'll build a nest over there in the big woods, and you can go back and forth between my—my brood and mr. g. bird's," promised adam with pan's fluty laugh.
"branded, and i don't even know the initials on the brand," i said to myself as i stood on the front steps under a honeysuckle vine that was twining with a musky rose in a death struggle as to the strength of their perfumes, and watched adam go padding swiftly and silently away from me down the long avenue of elms. a mocking-bird in a tree over by the fence was pouring out showers of notes of liquid love, and ringdoves cooed and softly nestled up under the eaves above my head. "i'm a woman and i've found my mate. i am going to be part of it all," i said to myself as i sank to the step and began to brood with the night around me.
i think that god gives it sometimes to a woman to have a night in which she sits alone brooding her love until somehow it waxes so strong and brave that it can face death by starvation and cold and betrayal and still live triumphant. it is so that he recreates his children.
"now, of course, ann, everybody admires your pluck about this retiring from the world and becoming a model rustic, but it does seem to me that you might admit that some of your old friends have at least a part of the attraction for you that is vested in, well, say old mrs. red ally, for instance. will you or will you not come in to dine and to wine and to dance at the country club with matthew saturday evening?" bess delivered herself of the text of her mission to me before she descended from her cherry roadster in front of the barn.
"oh, bess, just come and see old mrs. red and never, never ask me to feel about a mere friend of my childhood like i do about her," i answered with welcome and excitement both in my voice. "do come quick and look!"
"coming," answered bess, with delightful enthusiasm and no wounded pride, as she left the car in one motion and swept into the barn with me in about two more.
"now, just look at that," i said as i opened the top of the long box that is called a brooder and is supposed to supplement the functions of the metal incubator mother in the destiny of chicken young. it has feed and water-pans in it, straw upon the floor as a carpet, and behind flannel portières is supposed to burn a lamp with mother ardor sufficient to keep the small fledglings warm, though orphaned. did the week-old babies leghorn have to be content with such mechanical mothering? not at all! right in the middle of the brooder sat the old red ally, and her huge red wings were stretched out to cover about twenty-five of the metal-born babies and part of her own fifteen, and spread in a close, but fluffy, circle around her were the rest of her adopted family all cosily asleep and happy at heart. "i left the top of the brooder open while i went for water the second day after hers and the incubator's had hatched, and when i came back she was just as you see her now, in possession of the entire orphan-asylum."
"oh, look, she's putting some out from under her and taking others in. oh, ann!" exclaimed bess as she dropped on her knees beside the long box.
"yes; she changes them like that. i've seen her do it," i answered, with my cheeks as pink with excitement as were those of my sympathetic friend, elizabeth rutherford. "and you ought to see her take them all out for a walk across the grass. they all peep and follow, and she clucks and scratches impartially."
"ann," said bess, with a great solemnity in the dark eyes that she raised to mine, "i suppose i ought to marry owen this june. i want to have another winter of good times, but i—i'm ashamed to look this hen in the face."
"owen is perfectly lovely," i answered her, which was a very safely noncommittal answer in the circumstances.
"he carries one of the chickens he bought from you in his pocket all the time, with all necessary food, and it is much larger than any of mine or his in my conservatory. owen is the one who goes in to tend to them when he brings me home from parties and things and—and—"
"matthew took off all of his and polly's little reds yesterday, and i've never seen him so—so—" i paused for a word to express the tenderness that was in dear old matt's face as he put the little tan fluff-balls one at a time into polly corn-tassel's outstretched skirt.
"matthew is a wonder, ann, and you've got to come to this dance he is giving corn-tassel saturday—all for love of you because you asked him to look after her. he is the sweetest thing to her—just like old mrs. red here, spreads his wings and fusses if any man who isn't a lineal descendant of sir galahad comes near her. he's going to be awfully hurt if you don't come."
"then i'll tear myself away from my family and come, though i truly can't see that i wished polly corn-tassel upon all of you. you are just as 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 do next for food, because i owe rufus and the hogs so much," i answered gratefully.
"what did you pay?" asked bess, in a business-like tone of voice.
"only a dollar and a quarter a bushel, all seed grade," answered matthew, with the greatest nonchalance, as if he had known the grades of wheat from his earliest infancy.
"why, owen bought two bags of it for our joint family and paid such a fortune for it that i forgot the figures immediately; but i took up the rug and put it all in my dressing-room to watch over, lest thieves break into the garage and steal. also i made him send me plebeian carnations instead of violets for belle proctor's dinner tuesday," said bess, with covetousness in her eyes as she watched matthew begin to unload his wheat. i wonder what matthew's man, hickson, at one twenty-five a month, thought of his master's coat when he began to brush the chaff out of its london nap.
"oh, owen murray is just a town-bred duffer," said matthew, as he shouldered his last sack of grain.
"well, you are vastly mistaken if you think that—" bess was beginning to say in a manner that i knew from long experience would bring on a war of words between her and matthew when a large and cheerful interruption in the shape and person of aunt mary corn-tassel came around the corner of the house.
"well, well, what sort of city farming is going on to-day amongst all these stylish folks?" she asked as she skirted the two cars at what she considered a safe and respectful distance, and handed me a bunch of sweet clover-pinks with a spring perfume that made me think of the breath of pan o'woods as i buried my lips in them. "you, polly, go right home and take off that linen dress, get into a gingham apron, and begin to help bud milk. i believe in gavots at parties only if they strengthen muscles for milking time."
"may i wait and ride down with mr. matthew and show him where to put our wheat, mother?" asked polly as she snuggled up to her mother, who was pinning a stray pink into matthew's button-hole per his request.
"yes, if he'll put his legs under old mrs. butter to help you get done before i am ready to strain up," answered aunt mary, with a merry twinkle in her eye as she regarded matthew in his purple and fine linen. "put an apron on him," she added.
"lead me to the apron," said matthew, with real and not mock heroics.
"but before you go i want to tell all of you about an invitation that has come over the telephone in the bank to all of riverfield, and make a consultation about it. now who do you suppose gave it?"
"who?" we all asked in chorus.
"nobody less than the governor of the state called up silas, me answering for him on account of his deafness, and asked everybody to come in to town next saturday night to hear this new commissioner of agriculture that he is going to appoint make the opening address of his office, i reckon you could call it. you know silas is the leading democrat of this district, and the governor has opened riz biscuits with me many a time. i told him 'thank you, sir,' we would all come and hear the young man talk about what he didn't know, and he laughed and rang off. yes, we are all going in a kind of caravan of vehicles, and i want you to go, nancy, in the family coach and take mrs. tillett with you on account of her having to take all the seven little tilletts, because there won't be a minder woman left to look after 'em. bud will drive so as not to disturb cradd or william in their heathen pursuits or discommode rufus' disposition. now, won't it be nice for the whole town to go junketing in like that?" as she spoke aunt mary beamed upon us all with pure delight.
"but saturday evening is the night that mr. matthew is going to have that dance for me, mother," said polly, with the violets becoming slightly sprinkled underneath the long black lashes.
"well, dancing can wait a spell," answered aunt mary, comfortably. "the governor said that all the folks at cloverbend and providence and hillsboro are going, and riverfield has got to shake out a forefoot in the trip and not a hind one."
"oh, we'll have the dance next week, corn-tassel," promised matthew, promptly enough to prevent the drenching of the violets. "it will be great to hear baldwin accept his portfolio, as it were."
"and after his term begins i suppose he'll have offices at the capitol and will be in town most of the time. then we can have him at all the dances. polly, he dances like nothing earthly. still matthew won't let him come near you; he's deadly to women. we are all positively drugged by him," exclaimed bess, delighted at the idea of hayesville society acquiring the new commissioner of agriculture for a permanent light.
"then i can count on you to help mrs. tillett and the children in and out, nancy?" continued aunt mary, with the light of such generalship in her eye that i was afraid even to mention my one-sided feud with the hero of the hour. "you can take baby tillett and sit a little way apart from her so she won't have to feed him all the time to keep him quiet."
"i can take eight people in my car, mother corn-tassel," said matthew, with the most beautiful eagerness.
"i can get in five," added bess, with an equal eagerness. "can i have the addcocks?" bess and the pessimistic mrs. addcock had got together over some medicine to prevent pip in the conservatory young leghorns.
"yes, and matthew can take all the eight spains if i can sit down mrs. spain to a bolt of gingham in time to get them all nicely covered for such a company," decreed the general, as she ran over in her mind's eye the rest of the population of riverfield. "i'll make all the men hitch their best teams to the different rigs, and by starting early and taking both dinner and supper on the way we can get there in plenty of time. twenty miles is not more than a half day's trip."
"i can sit by you and hold two spains in my lap," i heard polly plan with matthew.
"sure you can," he answered her. "i think the loveliest thing about matthew berry is the way he speaks to women and children." as he answered, he piled aunt mary and polly in beside the rest of the wheat-bags and motored them away down the avenue.
"ann, please come to town with me," pleaded bess as she got into her car and prepared to follow in the wake of the wheat-bags. "i miss you so, and belle weeps at the mention of you. she and i are having dinner at the old hickory club with houston jeffries and owen to-night. matt will come, and let's have one good old time. i came all this way to get you."
"i honestly, honestly can't, bess," i said as i took her hand stretched down from her seat behind the wheel to me, and put my cheek against it. "i've got this whole farm to feed between now and night. both incubators must have their supper of oil or you know what'll happen. mrs. ewe and family must be fed, or rather she must be fed so as to pass it along at about breakfast time, i should say, not being wise in biology or natural history; the entire bird family are invited to supper with me, and i even have to carry a repast of corn over the meadows to my pet abhorrences, rufus' swine, because he has retired to the hay-loft with a flannel rag around his head, which means i have offended him or that father has given him an extra absent-minded drink from the decanter that matthew brought him. peckerwood pup is at this moment, you see, chewing the strings out of my shoes as an appetizer for her supper. how could i eat sweetbreads and truffle, which i know owen has already ordered, when i knew that more than a hundred small children were at home crying for bread?"
"ann, what is it that makes you so perfectly radiantly beautiful in that faded linen smock and old corduroy skirt? of course, you always were beautiful, but now you look like—like—well, i don't know whether it is a song i have heard or a picture i have seen." bess leaned down and laid her cheek against mine for a second.
"i'm going to tell you some day before long," i whispered as i kissed the corner of her lips. "now do take the twin fathers for a little spin up the road and make them walk back from the gate. they have been suffering with the trojan warriors all day, and i know they must have exercise. uncle cradd walks down for the mail each day, but father remains stationary. your method with them is perfect. go take them while i supper and bed down the farm."
"i know now the picture is by tintoretto, and it's some place in rome," bess called back over her shoulder as she drove her car slowly around to the front door to begin her conquest and deportation of my precious ancients.
"not painted by tintoretto, but by the pagan pan," i said to myself as i turned into the barn door.
