AT THE COURT OF DAME NATURE


"Well, Rose Mary," said Uncle Tucker as he appeared in the doorway of
the milk-house and framed himself against an entrancing,
mist-wreathed, sun-up aspect of Sweetbriar with a stretch of
Providence Road winding away to the Nob and bending caressingly around
red-roofed Providence as it passed over the Ridge, "there are
forty-seven new babies out in the barn for you this morning. Better
come on over and see 'em!" Uncle Tucker's big eyes were bright with
excitement, his gray lavender muffler, which always formed a part of
his early morning costume, flew at loose ends, and a rampant, grizzly
lock stuck out through the slit in the old gray hat.

"Gracious me, Uncle Tuck, who now?" demanded Rose Mary over a crock
of milk she was expertly skimming with a thin, old, silver ladle.

"Old White has hatched out a brood of sixteen, assorted black and
white, that foolish bronze turkey hen just come out from under the
woodpile with thirteen little pesters, Sniffer has got five
pups--three spots and two solids--and Mrs. Butter has twin calves,
assorted sex this time. They are spry and hungry and you'd better come
on over!"

"Lovely," laughed Rose Mary with the delight in her blue eyes matching
that in Uncle Tucker's pair of mystic gray. "I'll come just as soon as
I get the skimming done. We'll want some corn meal and millet seed for
the chirp-babies, but the others we can leave to the maternal
ministrations. I'm so full of welcome I don't see how I'm going to