The Golden Bird | Page 8

of Uncle
Cradd's, poured out of the wide door of the business building before

described, and they acted very much as I have seen the boys at Yale or
Princeton act after a success or defeat on the foot-ball field. They
hugged father and they slapped him on the back and they shook his
hand as if it were not of human, sixty-year-old flesh and blood. Then
they introduced a lot of stalwart young farmers to him, each of whom
gave father hearty greetings, but refrained from even a glance in my
direction as I sat enthroned on high on the faded old cushions and
waited for an introduction, which at last Uncle Cradd remembered to
give me.
"This is Miss Nancy Craddock, gentlemen, named after my mother, and
she's going to beat out the Bend in her chicken raising, which she's
brought along with her. Come over, youngsters, and look her over. The
fire in the parlor don't burn more than a half cord of wood on a Sunday,
and you can come over Saturday afternoon and cut it against the
Sabbath, with a welcome to any one of the spare rooms and a slab of
Rufus's spare rib and a couple of both breakfast and supper muffins."
All of the older men laughed at this sweeping invitation, and all the
younger greeted it with ears that became instantly crimson. I verily
believe they would one and all have fled and left me sitting there yet if
a diversion had not arrived in the person of Mrs. Silas, who came
bustling out of the door of the grocery or post-office or bank;
whichever it is called, is according to your errand there. Mrs. Si was
tall, and almost as broad as the door itself, with the rosiest cheeks and
the bluest eyes I had ever beheld, and they crinkled with loveliness
around their corners. She had white water-waves that escaped their
decorous plastering into waving little tendril curls, and her mouth was
as curled and red-lipped and dimpled as a girl's. In a twinkling of those
blue eyes I fell out of the carriage into a pair of strong, soft, tender arms
covered with stiff gray percale, and received two hearty kisses, one on
each cheek.
"God bless you, honeybunch, and I'm glad William has brought you
home at last, the rascal." As she hugged me she reached out a strong
hand and gave father first a good shake by his shoulder and then by his
hand.

"Fine girl, eh, Mary?" answered father as he returned the shoulder
shake with a pat on the broad gray percale back, and retained the strong
hand in his, with a frank clinging.
I wondered if--
"She's her Aunt Mary's blessed child, and I will have her making riz
biscuits like old Madam Craddock's black Sue for you two boys in less
than a week," she answered him, with a laugh that somehow sounded a
bit dewy.
"Oh, do you know about chickens, Mrs.--I mean, Aunt Mary?" I asked
as I clung to the hand to which father was not clinging.
"Bless my heart, what's that I see setting up on old Madam Craddock's
cushions? Is it a rooster or a dream bird?" she answered me by
exclaiming as she caught sight of Mr. G. Bird sitting in lonely state, but
as good as gold, upon the rose-leather cushions. "I thought I feathered
out the finest chickens in the Harpeth Valley, but this one isn't human,
you might say," and as she spoke she shook off father and me, and
approached the carriage and peered in with the reverence of a real
poultry artist. "Bless my heart!" she again exclaimed.
"Those are just Miss Nancy's whims to take the place of her card-routs
and sinful dancing habits," said Uncle Cradd, with a great and
indulgent amusement as all the little crowd of native friends gathered
around to look at the Bird family.
"Say, that rooster ought to have been met with a brass band like they
did Mr. Cummins' horse, Lightheels, after he won all those cups up in
the races at Cincinnati," said the tallest of the young farmers, whose
ears had begun to assume their normal color.
"And a sight more right he has to such a honor, Bud Beesley," replied
Aunt Mary, with spirit, as she stroked the proud head of the Golden
Bird. "It takes hens and women all their days to collect the money men
spend on race-horses sometimes, my son."

"Well, Mary, I reckon you aren't alluding to this pair of spanking grays
I've got; but in case you are getting personal to them, I think we had
better begin to go. Come, get in with the Whim family, Nancy, and let's
be traveling. It's near on to a mile