"Yes, she can, honey-child," answered Mother Mayberry comfortably.
"The smile in her eye and the switch of her skirts is a woman's
borned-vote, and she can elect herself wife to any man she cares to
use 'em on. But what about the collation, Bettie? Everybody is going
to help you with the cooking and fixings, and let's have a never-
forget supper this onct."

"That we are," answered Mrs. Pratt emphatically. "Mr. Hoover says no
hand-around, stand-around for him; he wants a regular laid table
with a knife and fork set-down to it. He says we are a-going to feed
our friends liberal, if it takes three acres of timothy hay to do
it, and he's about right. We'll begin thinking about that and
deciding what the first of the week. But I must be a-going to see
that the dinner horn blows in time. I want to get my sparagrasses
extra tender, for 'Liza have notified me that she is going to stop
by to-day with the covered dish, and I want to fill it tasty for
her. Come visiting soon, Miss Elinory, for I've got something to
show you that are too foolish to speak about to Mis' Mayberry." And
the widow gave a delicious little giggle as she lifted the sleeping
baby from Mother Mayberry's lap and started down the steps.

"Dearie me, Bettie," answered Mother with a laugh, "don't you know
that poking up a woman's curiosity is mighty apt to start a yaller
jacket to buzzing? I'll be by your house sometime before sundown
myself."

"Some women's ship of life is a steamboat that stops to take on
passengers at every landing. Bettie's are one of them kind, and
she'll tie up with 'em all in glory when the time comes," remarked
Mother Mayberry as she watched the sturdy widow swing away down the