great mind to make 'em every one up into pies and salad and such.
They's a heap of men, come trouble, don't make no show, and the
women folks have to lead the fight. But they might er helped her
after she's took holt!"

"The brutes!" exclaimed Doctor Tom with real indignation. "When are
you going to have the pie, Mother?" he added teasingly.

"Well, I've got no intentions of feeding no such coward truck to
you, sir," answered his mother, still flurried with belligerency.

"But the little baby chicken--what DID become of it?" demanded Miss
Wingate, and she, too, cast a glance of scorn at the Doctor.

"Why, he dropped it and flew away as soon as he caught sight of me.
It ain't hurt a mite, and Spangles have hovered it and all the rest
she could coax out from under Dominick. Now this do settle it! Good
looks don't disqualify a woman from nothing; it's the men that can't
stand extra long tail feathers and fluted combs. I'm a-going to put
'em all four in the pot before Wednesday."

"I apologize; I apologize, with emotion, for all my doubts, both
expressed and unexpressed, of Mrs. Spangles!" the Doctor hastened to
exclaim. "Neck under heel for the whole masculine fraternity and
suffrage triumphant!"

"Well, it's not as bad as that," answered Mother in a jovially
mollified tone of voice. "Meek, plain-favored men like you may be
let live, with no attention paid 'em. Now go on over to Flat Rock
and stop a-wasting me and my honey-bird's time with your chavering.