them. With strange chickens and girls around your house something
misfortunate is a-going to happen to you, Mis' Mayberry, and I see
it a-coming. Don't say I didn't tell you."

"No, I'll give you credit for your warning," answered Mother
propitiatingly. "How's that pain in your side?" she hastened to ask,
to change the subject from a disagreeable one to what she knew by
experience would prove at least interesting.

"It's a heap better," answered Mrs. Peavey promptly.

"Oh, I'm so glad," exclaimed Mother, immediately beginning to beam
with pride. "I told you Tom could help it with that new kind of dry
plaster he made for you. Ain't it wonderful?"

"Shoo! I never put that on! It didn't have smell enough to do any
good. I knew that as soon as I unrolled it. I just rubbed myself
heavy with that mixture of kerosine, vinegar and gum camfire you've
been making me for twenty years, and I slept uncommon well."

"Oh," answered Mother Mayberry, "I wish you had tried Tom's plaster.
I feel sure--"

"Well, I don't--of anything that a boy like Tom Mayberry knows. If
he lives here a spell and learns from you maybe he'll get some
doctoring sense, but I wouldn't trust him for ten years at the
shortest. But have you heard the news?" A flame of positive joy
flared up in Mrs. Peavey's eyes and flushed her sallow cheeks.

"Why, what is it?" asked Mother with a guarded interest and no small