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The Road to Providence by Maria Thompson Daviess
page 73 of 185 (39%)

"And yours--when directed by her--her philosophies," she ventured
daringly, as she lifted Martin Luther into her arms, with a view to
depositing him upon the haven of Mother's bed to finish his nap.

The Doctor looked at her a second, started to answer, thought better
of it, took the heavy youngster out of her arms into his own and
strode across the hall with him into Mother's room.

The singer lady walked to the edge of the porch, pulled down a spray
of the fragrant vine and looked out through it to the blue hills
beyond the meadows. She hummed a waltz-song this time, and her eyes
were dancing as if she were meditating some further assault on the
Doctor's imperturbability. He came back and stood beside her, and
was just about to make a tentative remark when Mother Mayberry
hurried around the side of the house.

"Children!" she exclaimed, her eyes shining, her cheeks pink with
excitement, and the white curls flying in every direction; "I never
did have such a time in my life! It WERE a chicken-hawk and he were
right down amongst the hens and little chickens. Old Dominick was
spread out like a featherbed over all hers and most of Spangles',
and there Spangles was just a-contending with him over one of her
little black babies. He had it in his claw, but she had him by a
beak full of feathers and was a-swinging on for fare-you-well. Old
Dominick was a-directing of her with squawks, and Ruffle Neck was
just squatting over hers, batting her eyes with skeer, for all the
world like she was a fine lady a-going into a faint. And there stood
all four of the roosters, not a one of 'em a-turning of a feather to
help her! They looked like they was petrified to stone, and I'm a
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