CHAPTER V

THE LITTLE RAVEN AND HER COVERED DISH


Wednesday morning dawned clear and bright. From over Providence Nob
the round red old sun looked jovially and encouragingly down upon
Providence, up and stirring at an unusually early hour, for in the
mid-week came Sewing Circle day and the usual routine of work must
be laid by before the noon meal, and every housewife in condition to
forgather at the appointed place on the stroke of one. Mrs. Peavey
had aroused the protesting Buck at the peep of dawn, the Pikes were
all up and breakfasting by the first rays of light that fell over
the Ridge, and the Hoover biscuits had been baked in the Pratt oven
and handed across the fence fifteen minutes agone. Down the road Mr.
Petway was energetically taking down the store shutters and Mr.
Mosbey was building the blacksmith shop fire. Cindy had milked and
started breakfast and Mother Mayberry had begun the difficult task
of getting the Doctor up and ready for the morning meal. Martin
Luther had had a glass of warm milk and was ready for an energetic
attack upon his first repast.

Above, in her room under the gables, the singer lady had been
awakened by the brushing of a white-capped old locust bough against
her casement as it attempted to climb with all its bloom into her
dormer window. As she looked through the mist, a long golden shaft