The Golden Bird

Golden Bird, The

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Title: The Golden Bird
Author: Maria Thompson Daviess
Illustrator: Edward L. Chase
Release Date: October 30, 2005 [EBook #16963]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
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THE GOLDEN BIRD

BY
MARIA THOMPSON DAVIESS
Author of "The Melting of Molly," "Phyllis," "Sue Jane," "The Tinder
Box," etc.
ILLUSTRATED BY EDWARD L. CHASE
NEW YORK THE CENTURY CO. 1918
Copyright, 1918, by THE CENTURY CO.
Copyright, 1918, by BUTTERICK PUBLISHING COMPANY
_Published, September, 1918_
[Transcriber's note: Minor typos corrected.]
[Illustration: "Oh, how beautiful!" exclaimed Polly, all restraint leaving
her young face and body as she fell on her knees before the sultan]

TO IDA CLYDE CLARKE WHOSE COURAGE INSPIRES ME

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"Oh, how beautiful!" exclaimed Polly, all restraint leaving her young
face and body as she fell on her knees before the sultan
A poor old sheep was lying flat with pathetic inertia while Adam stood
over her with something in his arms
I put his babykins in a big feed-basket and the lamb twins came and
welcomed him
And Bud was beautiful in the "custom-made" fifteen-dollar gray

cheviot with his violet eyes and yellow shock, in spite of his red ears

THE GOLDEN BIRD
CHAPTER I
The primary need of a woman's nature is always supposed to be love,
but very suddenly I discovered that in my case it was money, a lot of it
and quick. That is, I thought I needed a lot and in a very great hurry;
but if I had known what I know now, I might have been contented
feeding upon the bread of some kind of charity, for instance, like being
married to Matthew Berry the very next day after I discovered my
poverty. But at that period of my life I was a very ignorant girl, and in
the most noble spirit of a desperate adventure I embarked upon the
quest of the Golden Bird, which in one short year has landed me--I am
now the richest woman in the world.
"But, Ann Craddock, you know nothing at all about a chicken in any
more natural state than in a croquette," stormed Matthew at me as he
savagely speared one of those inoffensive articles of banquet diet with a
sharp silver fork while he squared himself with equal determination
between me and any possible partner for the delicious one-step that the
band in the ball-room was beginning to send out in inviting waves of
sound to round the dancers in from loitering over their midnight food.
"The little I do not know about the chicken business, after one week
spent in pursuit of that knowledge through every weird magazine and
state agricultural bulletin in the public library, even you could learn,
Matthew Berry, with your lack of sympathy with the great American
wealth producer, the humble female chicken known in farmer patois as
a hen. Did you know that it only costs about two dollars and thirteen
cents to feed a hen a whole year and that she will produce twenty-seven
dollars and a half for her owner, the darling thing? I know I'll just love
her when I get to know her--them better, as I will in only about
eighteen hours now."

"Ann, you are mad--mad!" foamed Matthew, as he set down his plate
of perfectly good and untasted food, and buried his head in his hands
until his mop of black hair looked like a big blot of midnight.
"I'm not mad, Matthew, just dead poor, an heiress out of a job and with
the necessity of earning her bread by the sweat of her brow instead of
consuming cake by the labor of other people. Uncle Cradd is coming in
again with a two-horse wagon, and the carriage to move us out to
Elmnest to-morrow morning. Judge Rutherford will attend to selling all
the property and settle with father's creditors. Another wagon is coming
for father's library, and in two days he won't know that Uncle Cradd
and I have moved him, if I can just get him started on a bat with
Epictetus or old Horace. Then me for the tall timbers and my friend the
hen.
"Oh, Ann, for the love of high heaven, marry me