shone from my eyes into his sympathetic ones.

"Well, you'll be an heiress in no time with them to start you, with 'good
management.' I never saw a finer lot," he said, as he walked to the door of
the carriage with me, with the last pair of white Leghorn ladies in his
arms.

"But maybe I haven't got that management," I faltered, with my anxiety
getting tearful in my words.

"Oh, you'll learn," he said, with such heavenly soothing in his voice that
I almost reached out my hands and clung to him as he settled the fussing
poultry in the bottom of the carriage in such a way as to leave room for my
feet among them. Mr. G. Bird was perched on the seat at my side and was
craning his neck down and soothingly scolding his family. "How are you, Mr.
Craddock?" Pan asked of Uncle Cradd's back, and by his question interrupted
an argument that sounded, from the Greek phrases flying, like a battle on
the walls of Troy.

"Well, well, how are you, Adam?" exclaimed Uncle Cradd, as he turned around
and greeted the woodsman with a smile of positive delight.

I had known that man's name was Adam, but I don't know how I knew.

"This is my brother, Mr. William Craddock, who's come home to me to live
and die where he belongs, and that young lady is Nancy. Those chickens are
just a whim of hers, and we have to humor her. Can we lift you as far as
Riverfield?" Uncle Cradd made his introduction and delivered his invitation
all in one breath.