smell sweet, because they're both born for that," continued Rose Mary
as she lifted a huge pat of the butter on to a blue saucer. "Men are
sometimes a comfort, too--and sweet," she added with a roguish glance
at him over the butter flower she was making.

"No, Rose Mary, men are just thorns, cruel and slashing--but sometimes
they protect the rose," answered Everett in his most cynical tone of
voice, though the excitement again flamed up in his dark eyes and
again his hand closed over the kit at his side. "Do you know what I
think I'll do?" he added. "I think I'll take old Gray and jog over to
Boliver for a while. I'll see the Senator, and I want to get a wire
through to the firm in New York if I can. I'll eat both the dinner and
supper you have saved when I come back, though it may be late before I
get my telegram. Will you be still awake, do you think?"

"I may not be awake, for Stonie got me up so awfully early to help him
and Uncle Tucker grease those foolish little turkeys' heads to keep
off the dew gaps, but I'll go to sleep on the settee in the hall, and
you can just shake me up to give you your supper."

"I'll do nothing of the kind, you foolish child," answered Everett.
"Go to bed and--but a woman can't manage her dreams, can she?"

"Oh, dreams are only little day thoughts that get out of the coop and
run around lost in the dark," answered Rose Mary, with a laugh. "I've
got a little bronze-top turkey dream that is yours," she added.

"Is it one of the foolish flock?" Everett called back from the middle
of the plank across the spring stream, and without waiting for his
answer he strode down the Road.