finally into the dependence of his youth.

"Good, Mr. Craddock," exclaimed Matthew, and I could see visions of Ann
Craddock reclaimed from her farmer's smock in a ball-gown upon the floor
of the country club in the fleeting glance of triumph he gave me. "Of
course, about the price--"

Then in that counsel of the mighty arose Ann Craddock, farm woman in the
stronghold of her worn-out acres.

"Is it or is it not true, Uncle Cradd, that no deed to this property can be
made without my consent?" I asked calmly.

"Why, yes, Nancy," answered Uncle Cradd, indulgently. "But this is a matter
for your father and me to decide for you. I am sure you cannot fail in
patriotism, my child."

"I don't," I answered. "I am going to be more patriotic than any woman ever
was before. I am not going to sell my Grandmother's rosebushes in their
gardens or the acres that have nourished my family since its infancy in
America long before this Evan Baldwin ever had any family, I feel sure, for
sixty thousand dollars to go back and sit down in a corner with. I am going
to demonstrate to the United States what one woman can do in the way of
nutriment production aided by one beautiful rooster and ten equally
beautiful hens, and when they begin to take stock of the resources of this
Government, we women of the Harpeth Valley will be there with our
egg-baskets. Just take that answer to your Mr. Evan Baldwin, Matthew Berry,
and I'll never forgive you for this insult."

"Nancy!" ejaculated Uncle Cradd with stern amazement.