The Road To Providence | Page 5

"I really oughter put on a cover and make her set on the next," she said
doubtfully, "but it do seem kinder to teach her hovering a little at a time.
Course all women things has got mothering borned into 'em, but it
comes easier to some than to others. I always feel like giving 'em a
helping hand at the start off."
"You have a great deal of faith if you feel sure of that universally
maternal instinct in these days, Mother," said the Doctor with a teasing
smile as he handed her a quart cup of oats from the bin. "Oh, I know
what you're talking about," answered Mother, as she scattered a little
grain in front of each nest and prepared to leave in peace and quiet the
brooding mothers. "It's this woman's rights and wrongs question. I've
been so busy doctoring Providence Road pains and trying to make a
good, proper husband outen you for some nice girl, what some other
woman have been putting licks on to get ready for you, that I've been
too pushed to think about the wrongs being did to me. But not knowing
any more about it than I do, I think this woman's rumpus all sounds
kinder like a hen scratching around in unlikely and contrary corners for
the bread of life, when she knows they is plenty of crumbs at the
kitchen door to be et up. But if you're going to ride over to Flat Rock
this evening you'd better go on and get back in time for some riz
biscuits as Elinory is a-making for you this blessed minute."
"She's not making them for me," answered the young Doctor with the
color rising under his clear, tanned skin up to his very forelock. As he
spoke he busied himself with bridling his restless young mare.
"Of course she is," answered his mother serenely. "Women don't take

no interest in cooking unless they's a man to eat the fixings. Left to
herself she'd eat store bread and cheese with her head outen the window
for the birds to clean up the crumbs. Stop by and ask after Mis' Bostick
and the Deacon. And if you bring me a little candy from the store with
the letters, maybe I'll eat it to please you. Now be a-going so as to be
a-coming the sooner." With which admonition Mother took her
departure down the garden path.
She was tall and broad, was Mother Mayberry, and in her walk was left
much of the lissome strength of her girlhood to lighten the matronly
dignity of her carriage. Her stiffly starched, gray-print skirts swept
against a budding border of jonquils and the spring breezes floated an
end of her white lawn tie as a sort of challenge to a young cherry tree,
that was trying to snow out under the influence of the warm sun. Her
son smiled as he saw her stoop to lift a feeble, over-early hop toad back
under the safety of the jonquil leaves, out of sight of a possible savage
rooster. He knew what expression lay in her soft gray eyes that brooded
under her Wide, placid brow, upon which fell abundant and often
riotous silver water-waves. His own eyes were very like them and
softened as he looked at her, a masculine version of one of her quick s
quirked at the corner of his clean-cut mouth.
"The bread of life--she's found it," he said to himself musingly as he
slipped the last buckle in his bridle tight.
"Elinory," called Mother Mayberry from the kitchen steps, "come out
here and sense the spring. Everywhere you look they is some young
thing a-peeping up or a-reaching out or a-running over or wobbling or
bleating or calling. Looks like the whole world have done broke out in
blooms and babies."
"I can't--I wish I could," came an answer in a low, beautiful voice with
a queer, husky note. "It's all sticking to my hands, flour and everything,
and I don't know what to do!"
"Dearie me, you've put in the milk a little too liberal! Wait until I sift
on a mite more flour. Now rub it in light! See, it's all right, and most
beautiful dough. Don't be discouraged, for riz biscuits is most the top

test of cooking. Keep remembering back to those cup custards you
made yesterday, what Tom Mayberry ate three of for supper and then
tried to sneak one outen the milk-house to eat before he went to bed."
"Oh, did he?" asked Miss Wingate with delight shining in her dark eyes
and a beautiful pink rising up in her pale cheeks. "I wish I COULD do
something to please him and make him feel how--how-- grateful I
am--for the hope he's given me.