"What are you going to do with them, Mother?" he asked, for though
his education in chicken lore seemed to have been in vain he was
none the less sympathetically interested in his mothers practice of
the hen-craft.

"I'm just going to give 'em to Old Dominick to dry out and warm up
for her while I persuade her back on the nest. As she gets used to
hearing the cheepings from under another hen she'll take the next
ones that come with less mistrust." And suiting her actions to her
words Mother Mayberry slipped the two forlorn little mites under a
warm old wing that stretched itself out with gentleness to receive
and comfort them. Some budding instinct had sent the foolish fluff
of stylish feathers clucking at her skirts, so she bent down and
with a gentle and sympathetic hand lifted the young inadequate back
on the nest.

"I really oughter put on a cover and make her set on the next," she
said doubtfully, "but it do seem kinder to teach her hovering a
little at a time. Course all women things has got mothering borned
into 'em, but it comes easier to some than to others. I always feel
like giving 'em a helping hand at the start off."

"You have a great deal of faith if you feel sure of that universally
maternal instinct in these days, Mother," said the Doctor with a
teasing smile as he handed her a quart cup of oats from the bin.
"Oh, I know what you're talking about," answered Mother, as she
scattered a little grain in front of each nest and prepared to leave
in peace and quiet the brooding mothers. "It's this woman's rights
and wrongs question. I've been so busy doctoring Providence Road