Maria Thompson Daviess - The Golden Bird

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"The art of dining and the craft of business should never be commingled;
let us repair to the library," said Uncle Cradd, thus placing the spare
ribs in an artistic atmosphere and at the same time aiming an arrow of
criticism, though unconscious, at the custom of the world out over Paradise
Ridge of feeding business conditions down the throat of an adversary with
his food and drink, specially drink.

"I don't know why, but I'm scared to death now that I'm up against it,"
Matthew confided to me as he first took a legal-looking piece of paper from
his pocket and then hastily put it back as he and I followed the parental
twins down the hall and into the library.

"Will you rescue me, Ann?" he whispered as he ceremoniously seated me in
my low chair and took a straight one beside father as Uncle Cradd stood
tall, huge and towering on the old home-woven rug before the small fire in
the huge rock chimney.

"Yes," I answered as I settled back in the little chair and took one
passionately delighted look around the old room, which I was seeing in the
broad light of day for the first time. I am glad that the old home which
had been the stronghold of my foremothers and fathers was thus revealed to
me in half lights and a little at a time; I couldn't have stood the ecstasy
of it all at once. The room was the low-beamed old wonder that I had felt
it to be in the candle-light the night before, only now the soft richness
of the paneling, which held back into the gloom the faded colors of the
books that lined the walls, the mellowed glow of the rough stone of the
chimney, and the faded hand-woven rugs on the floor made it all look like
one of Rembrandt's or Franz Hals' canvases. But in a few seconds I came
back from the joy of it to a consciousness of what Matthew Berry was
saying.

"You see," he was explaining with enthusiasm, "that this new form of office
for the state commissioner of agriculture is really a part of the great
program of preparedness that has been evolving here in America since the
Great War began, and nobody knows just what to expect of it as yet. The
request from the President for the appointment of Evan Baldwin to take the
portfolio in the State of Harpeth has made everybody see that the President
means business with the States, and that America is to be made to produce
her own food and the food of the rest of the world that needs it. When a
scientist like Baldwin, worth millions and with experiment stations of
hundreds of acres in most states in the Union, which are coining more
millions with their propagation output, steps out and stands shoulder to
shoulder with Edison in working to get the United States prepared to feed
the world as well as to fend off any of that world that menaces it, the
rest of us have got to get up and hustle, some with a musket and some with
a plow."

"And some with an egg-basket," I added, as my cheeks began to glow with
something I hadn't ever felt before, but which I classified as patriotism.

"My country has only to call us and we'll answer to the whole of our
kingdom, William and I. We were lads too young to carry muskets against her
in the Civil war, but we, with Rufus, plowed these acres with children's
strength, and the larger portion of our products went to feed hungry
soldiers both blue and gray. I say, just let my country call William and
me!" As Uncle Cradd spoke, his back straightened, and I saw that he must
have been every inch of six feet three in his youth. "William?"

"With you, Cradd," answered father quietly, and I felt that that formula
was the one by which they had lived their joint youth.

"Well, that is about what they are asking of you, Mr. Craddock," said
Matthew, his cheeks red with the glow of the blood Uncle Cradd had called
up in his enthusiastic heart. "The new State secretary of agriculture has
asked our firm to undertake negotiations for the purchase of Elmnest, for a
recruiting station for the experts who are to take over the organizing of
the farming interests in the Harpeth Valley, which is the central section
of the State of Harpeth. They offer three hundred dollars an acre for the
whole tract of two hundred acres, despite the fact that some of it is worn
almost to its subsoil. They consider that as valuable, because they wish to
give demonstrations and try experiments in land restoration, though very
little of that is needed here in the valley. It's a pretty big thing, Mr.
Craddock and Father William, sixty thousand dollars will provide all the--"

"Did I understand that this proposition is put to us in the form of a
demand of our Government upon our patriotism?" asked Uncle Cradd in a
booming voice, while father only looked uncertain and ready to say, "With
you, Cradd." I sat speechless for a moment, with a queer pain in my heart
that I did not for the first second understand.

"Well, not exactly that, Mr. Craddock, but something like it in a--"
Matthew was beginning to say in a judicial way.

"That is enough, Matthew Berry, son of the friend of my youth. If the
United States needs Elmnest for national defenses, I am willing to give it
up--indeed insist on presenting it to the Government except for a small
part of the sum mentioned, which is needed for the simple and declining
lives of my brother William, Rufus, and me, and my niece Nancy. Will you so
convey our answer, William?"

"With you, Cradd," came the devoted formula with which father slipped back
finally into the dependence of his youth.

"Good, Mr. Craddock," exclaimed Matthew, and I could see visions of Ann
Craddock reclaimed from her farmer's smock in a ball-gown upon the floor
of the country club in the fleeting glance of triumph he gave me. "Of
course, about the price--"

Then in that counsel of the mighty arose Ann Craddock, farm woman in the
stronghold of her worn-out acres.

"Is it or is it not true, Uncle Cradd, that no deed to this property can be
made without my consent?" I asked calmly.

"Why, yes, Nancy," answered Uncle Cradd, indulgently. "But this is a matter
for your father and me to decide for you. I am sure you cannot fail in
patriotism, my child."

"I don't," I answered. "I am going to be more patriotic than any woman ever
was before. I am not going to sell my Grandmother's rosebushes in their
gardens or the acres that have nourished my family since its infancy in
America long before this Evan Baldwin ever had any family, I feel sure, for
sixty thousand dollars to go back and sit down in a corner with. I am going
to demonstrate to the United States what one woman can do in the way of
nutriment production aided by one beautiful rooster and ten equally
beautiful hens, and when they begin to take stock of the resources of this
Government, we women of the Harpeth Valley will be there with our
egg-baskets. Just take that answer to your Mr. Evan Baldwin, Matthew Berry,
and I'll never forgive you for this insult."

"Nancy!" ejaculated Uncle Cradd with stern amazement.

"Can't do a thing with her when she looks like that, Cradd," said father,
as he comfortably lighted a cigar and drew the small leather-covered book
towards him with hungry fingers.

"Now, Ann," began Matthew, in the soothing tone of voice he had seen fail
on me many times, "you don't understand entirely, and your situation is
pretty desperate in--"

"I do, I do understand that when I refuse this offer I am assuming enormous
obligations, Matthew Berry," I answered, with my head in the air and
absolute courage in my heart.

"I ask you to bear witness, Matthew, to what my answer to the demand of my
country would have been if I alone could have answered, but Nancy is within
her rights, and I protect the rights of a woman before those of any man,"
said Uncle Cradd, and there was not a trace of relief in his fine old face
that he was to be saved from a parting with the land that had been the love
of his life, but one of affectionate regard and admiration for me. "Also
say to the secretary of agriculture that a Craddock woman is as good as her
word, and that the Harpeth Valley can be depended upon to lead the United
States in the production of eggs in--when shall I promise, Nancy?"

"About--about a year," I answered, searching in my mind for some data from
the huge red book as to when wealth from the hen could be expected to roll
in in response to the "good management" I felt even then capable of
displaying. Even now I can't blame myself for over-confidence when I think
of the two white pearls in my hat on the table beside father's book.

"Better make it two," advised Matthew cautiously, but with a gleam of
enthusiasm as he also glanced at the eggs. That gleam was what earned my
forgiveness for his daring to come upon me with such a mission.

"Say eighteen months. That will be the end of the second season," I
answered with decision. "And it is about time for me to give the last
feeding of my hostages to the United States and Mr. Evan Baldwin. You'll
excuse me, Matthew?" I asked politely, but cruelly, for I knew he intended
to follow me immediately.

"Now here is your line of dispute, Cradd, just as I said," exclaimed
father, who had opened his leather treasure and been hunting through its
pages even before my heroics had completely exploded. And before Matthew
and I had left the room, they were off on a bat with some favorite Ancient.

CHAPTER V

"Of course, Ann, you _do_ realize just what you are doing?" asked Matthew
of me, as we walked on the moss-green flagstones back to the barn, and his
voice was so sweet and gentle with solicitude that I felt I must answer him
seriously and take him into my confidence. Affection is a note that one
must always make payment on.

"Yes, Matt, I do realize that those two are in a way children, for whose
maintenance I have made myself responsible, and my mind is scared to death,
but my heart is beating so high with courage that I can hardly stand it."

"Oh, come with me, Ann, and let me--" Matthew wooed.

"Matt," I answered gravely, "I haven't been here twenty-four hours yet, but
when the thought of having it all taken away came to me, something in me
rose and made me rage, rage, as I did in the house. I don't know what it
is, but there is something in this low old farm-house, this tumble-down old
barn, that leafless old garden with its crumbling brick walks, and these
neglected, worn-out old acres, which seems to--to feed me and which I know
I would perish without. Oh, please understand and--and help me a little
like you did this morning," I ended with a broken plea, as I stretched out
my hand to him just as I entered the door of my barn--castle of dreams for
the future.

"Dear Lord, the pluck of women!" Matthew exclaimed reverently, down in his
throat. "I'll be here, Ann, whenever you want me, and if you say that
chickens must fill my future life, then chickens it shall be," he added,
rising to the surface of the question again.

"Oh, Matt, you are a darling, and I--" I was exclaiming when a soft voice
from out of the shadows of the barn interrupted me and an apple-blossom in
the shape of a girl drifted into the late afternoon sunlight from the
direction of the feed-room.

"I'm Polly Beesley, and mother sent these eggs to scramble with the ones
you got this morning for supper," she said in a low voice that was
positively fragrant with sweetness. Two huge plaits of corn-silk hair fell
over her shoulders, and her eyes were as shy and blue as violets were
before they became a large commercial product. Her gingham dress was cut
with decorum just below her shoe-tops and, taking into consideration the
prevailing mode, its length, fullness, and ruffles made the slim young
thing look like a picture from the same review from which I had cut my
smocks. However, I am sure that if she had been at the between six and
eighteen age year before last, when about two and a half yards of gingham
would have been modish for her costume, she would still have been attired
in the voluminous ruffles.

"Holy smokes," I thought I heard Matthew gurgle, and I felt him start at
the apparition, though the young thing never so much as glanced in his
direction as she tendered me a quaint little basket in which lay half a
dozen eggs, real homely brown eggs and not pearl treasures.

"Oh, thank you, Polly dear," I answered with enthusiasm, and in obedience
to some urge resulting from the generations ahead of Polly and my
incarnation in the atmosphere of Riverfield, my lips met the rosy ones that
were held up to me. I felt sorry for Matthew, and I couldn't restrain a
glance of mischief at him that crossed his that were fixed on the yellow
braids.

"I didn't believe it of this day and generation," I heard him mutter as I
presented him to Polly, who answered that she was "pleased to make his
acquaintance," in a voice in which terror belied the sentiment expressed.

In her eyes traces of that same terror remained until suddenly the Golden
Bird stepped proudly out of the bushes with the Ladies Bird, clucking and
scratching along behind him. He had led the family out into the pasture
and was now wisely returning them to the barn before the setting of the
sun. I thought I had never seen him look so handsome, and no wonder his
conquest was immediate.

"Oh, how beautiful," exclaimed Polly, while all restraint left her young
face and body as she fell on her knees before the Sultan. "Chick, chick,
chick," she wooed, in the words that Pan had used to command, and with a
delight equal to hers in the introduction, the Bird came toward her. "Oh,
please, sir, Mr.--Mr. Berry, get me some corn quick--quick! I want to
squeeze him once," she demanded of Matthew, confident where she had before
been fearful. His response was long-limbed and enthusiastic, so that in a
few seconds Mr. G. Bird stood pecking grains from her hand. The spectacle
was so lovely that I was not at all troubled by twinges of jealousy, but
enjoyed it, for even at that early moment I think I felt a mercenary
interest in seeing the friendship between the Golden Bird and the
Apple-Blossom sealed. In her I psychologically scented an ally, and I
enjoyed the hug bestowed upon him fully as much or even more than he did.
It was a lovely picture that the kiddie made as she knelt at our feet with
the white fluff balls and wings whirring and clucking around her.

"Yes; let's go into the chicken business, Ann," said Matthew, as his eyes
danced with artistic pleasure. "You love 'em, don't you, Miss--Miss
Corn-tassel?" he asked, with teasing delight in his voice as well as in his
eyes.

"Yes sir," she answered as she looked up at him merrily, all fear of him
gone.

"Say, what do you think of going into the business with your Uncle Matthew
if Ann refuses to sell a half interest in hers to me?" he asked of her in
his jolly booming voice, with a smile many inches wide across his face.
"I'll put up the capital, you put up the work, and we'll take all the
prizes away from Ann."

"I don't want to take the prizes from Miss Ann. I'd rather have Reds so we
could both get ribbons," she answered as she dimpled up at me as
affectionately as if she had tagged at my gingham skirts at our sixth and
second years.

"Reds it shall be, Corn-tassel, and I'll be back with them as soon as an
advertisement in the daily papers can find them for me. I'll start the
search right now," said Matthew, teasing the kiddie as if he had known her
all his life, but with an expression turning to the genuine poultry
business enthusiasm. "You and Ann come on down to the gate with me in the
car and we'll talk--"

But just here an interruption occurred in the way of a hoarse squawk coming
from around the corner of the house. Hastily my eye called the roll of the
Ladies of Leghorn and found them all present just as the tall young farmer
whose ears had cooled down the day before over at Riverfield enough to let
him admire the Golden Bird and family appeared around from behind the huge
lilac at the corner of the house. He was attired as yesterday in the
beautiful dull-blue overall and jacket; his hair was the color of Polly's
and shocked from under the edges of a floppy gray hat, and in his arms he
carried a large hen the identical color of Pan's head.

"Howdy, Miss Nancy," he said in a voice as shy as Polly's, and his eyes
were also as blue and shy as hers. He looked right through Matthew until I
introduced them, then he shifted the hen and shook hands with Polly's
"Pleased to make your acquaintance" greeting.

"Glad to meet you, Mr. Beesley," said Matthew, exerting more charm of
manner than I had ever seen him use before. "My, but that is a gorgeous
bird you have!"

"She's a right good hen, but she's a mongrel. There isn't a single
thoroughbred Rhode Island Red hereabouts. I aim to get a setting of pure
eggs for Polly this spring if I sell my hawgs as good as Mr. Adam perdicks
I will. I brought her as a present to you, Miss Nancy, 'cause she's been
a-brooding about two days, and if you get together a setting of eggs the
last of next week she'll hatch 'em all. She carried three broods last
year."

"Oh, Mr. Beesley, how lovely of you," I exclaimed, as I reached out my arms
for the gorgeous old red ally. "I like her better than any present I ever
had in all my life!" This I said before the face of Matthew Berry, with a
complete loss of memory of all of the wonderful things he had been giving
me from my debut bouquet of white orchids and violets to the tiny scarab
from the robe of an Egyptian princess that I wore in the clasp of my
platinum wrist-watch.

"Well, I should say!" Matthew exclaimed, with not a thought of the
comparison in his generous mind. "Did you know that your sister, Miss
Polly, and I are going into the Rhode Island Red business together? We were
just deciding the details as you came around the house. What do you say to
coming in? How many shall I buy? Say, about fifty hens and half a dozen
cocks? Let's start big while we are about it. If Ann is going to make
three thousand dollars a year off one rooster and ten hens, we can make
fifteen off of five times as many."

"Yes, and we can bust the business all to pieces with too much stock,"
answered the brother Corn-tassel. "Miss Nancy has got real horse-sense
starting small, and chicken-sense too."

"I stand corrected," answered Matthew. "I see that a flyer cannot be taken
in chickens any higher than a hen can fly. I'm growing heady over this
business and must go back to town to set the wheels in motion. All of you
ride down to the gate with me and find out what the word jolt means."

Then after housing the Bird family in the feed-room with their guest, all
happily at scratch in the hay for the wheat and corn thrown to them by the
Corn-tassels while Matthew and I went in to bid the paternal twins good-by,
we all rode merrily and joltily down the long avenue under the old elms to
the big gate at the square in Riverfield. In front of the
post-office-bank-grocery emporium we deposited the Corn-tassels, introduced
Matthew to Aunt Mary and Uncle Silas, with the most cordial results on both
sides, and then turned in the car out the Riverfield ribbon instead of in.

"Just a spin will do you good, sweet thing," said Matthew, as I settled
down close enough to his shoulder to talk and not interrupt the powerful
engine. "I want you to myself for a small moment away from your live stock,
human and inhuman."

"Oh, Matt, there is nobody just like you and you have made this
day--possible," I said as I snuggled down into the soft cushions.

"Honestly, Ann, do you mean positively that you don't want me--now?" he
asked me as he sent the car whirling into the sun setting over Old Harpeth.

"Not--now," I answered bravely, though I nestled a little closer to him. He
seemed so good and strong and--certain.

"All right then, I'll take the next best and I'll come in to your farm
circle as partner or competitor or any old thing that keeps me in your
aura. I'll grow chickens with the Corn-tassels or--here we turn back for I
want to get out again over that bit of mountain-path that leads to your
citadel before twilight."

"Put me out at the gate, Matt. I want to walk up," I said, and held to it
against his protest. I finally made him see that I really was not equal to
another "rocking" over the road, and I stood and watched him drive the huge
car away from me down the Riverfield ribbon.

"I'm afraid I love him and just don't know it," I said to myself, as I
stood at the big gate and watched him going away from me into life as I had
known it since birth until twenty-four hours past. And from that vision of
my past I turned in the sunset light of the present and began to walk
slowly up the long avenue into my future. "I've never known anything but
dancing and motoring and being happy, and how could that teach any woman
what love is?" I queried as I stopped and picked up a small yellow flower
out of a nest of green leaves that some sort of ancestral influence must
have introduced to me as dandelion, for I had never really met one before.
I felt a pale reflection of the glow I had experienced when I took the two
warm pearls in my hands in the morning.

Then suddenly something happened that thrilled me first with interest and
then with--I don't know what to call it, but it was not fear. A fierce
little wind, that was earthy and sweet, but strong, ruffled across my path
and up into the tops of the elms, and with a bit of fury tore down an old
bird's-nest and flung it at my feet. It was soft and downy with bits of fur
and hair and wool inside, but it was all rent in two.

"I wonder if I can hold my Elmnest steady on the limb when--" I was saying
to myself unsteadily, with a mist in my eyes for the small wrecked home,
when from somewhere over my left shoulder there came Pan's reedy call, and
it ended with the two Delilah notes that I had thought I heard in the early
morning. It was with no will of my own that I answered with that coo which
I had heard Mr. G. Bird singing on the stage of the Metropolitan in my dawn
dream. Also I crashed rapidly through the bushes in the direction of the
call that this time came imperatively and without the coo.

"To your left and then straight toward the oak-tree," came human words from
Pan in quick command and direction. "Hurry!"

With a last struggle with the briars I broke out into a small open space
under the spreading branches of the old oak and upon a scene of tragedy,
that is, it was almost tragedy, for the poor old sheep was lying flat with
pathetic inertia while Adam stood over her with something in his arms.

"It's the fine Southdown ewe I persuaded Rufus to trade for one of the
precious hogs," he said, with not so much as a word of greeting or interest
personal to me in his voice or glance, but with such wonderful tenderness
that I came close to him because I couldn't resist it. "She dropped twin
lambs last night and she is down with exhaustion. They are getting cold,
and I want to take her right up to the barn where I can bed her on hay and
get something hot into all three. Can you cuddle the lambs and carry them
while I shoulder her?" As he spoke he held out his armful to me without
wounding me by waiting for my consent.

"Oh, the poor, cold babies!" I exclaimed, as I lifted the skirt of my long,
fashionable, heavy linen smock and wrapped them in it and my arms, close
against my warm solar plexus, which glowed at their soft huddling. One tiny
thing reached out a little red tongue and feebly licked my bare wrist, and
I returned the caress of introduction with a kiss on its little snowy,
woolly head.

"You've the lovesome hand with the beasties," said Pan as he smiled down on
the lambs and me.

[Illustration: A poor old sheep was lying flat with pathetic inertia while
Adam stood over her with something in his arms]

"I like 'em because they make me sorter grow inside some place, I don't
know exactly where," I answered as I adjusted my woolly burden for what I
knew would seem a long march. "I'll get 'em to the barn all right," I
assured their first friend, who was now bending over the poor mother. "This
is what I took Russian ballet dancing and played golf for, only I didn't
know it."

"You'd have executed more Baskt twists and done more holes a day if you had
known," said Adam, with beautiful unbounded faith in me, as he braced his
legs far apart and lifted the limp mother sheep up across his back and
shoulder. It seemed positively weird to be standing there acting a scene
out of Genesis and mentioning Baskt, and I was about to say so when Pan
started on ahead through the bushes and commanded me briefly to: "Come on!"

At his heels I toiled along with the sheep babies hugged close to my breast
until at last we deposited all three on a bed of fragrant hay in a corner
of the barn.

"What'll I feed 'em?" I questioned anxiously. "There isn't a bit of any
kind of food on this place but the ribs of a hog and a muffin and a cup of
coffee."

"We'll give her a quart of hot water with a few drops of this heart
stimulant I have in my pocket, and she'll do the rest for the family as
soon as she warms up. She's got plenty of milk and needs to have it drawn
badly. There you are--go to it, youngsters. She is revived by just being
out of the wind and in the warmth, and I don't believe she needs any
medicine. She wouldn't let them to her udder if she wasn't all right. Now
we can leave them alone for a time, and I'll give her a warm mash in a
little while." As he spoke Adam calmly walked away from the interesting
small family, which was just beginning a repast with great vigor, and
paused at the feed-room door. With more pride than I had ever felt when
entering a ball-room with a Voudaine gown upon me and a bunch of orchids, I
followed and stood at his side.

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