“Just one more crock of milk to skim and I can go,” answered Rose Mary as she poised the skimmer over the last yellow surface down the line of huge, brown, earthen bowls that in Harpeth Valley were known as crocks.  The milk-house was cool and clean and smelled of the fresh cream lifted from the milk into the stone jars to be clabbered for the to-morrow churning.  And Rose Mary herself was a fresh, fragrant incarnation of the spirit of a spring sun-dawn that had come over the Ridge from Old Harpeth.  Her merry voice floated out over the hillside as she followed in the wake of Uncle Tucker, Stonie and Tobe, with the provender for the new arrivals, and it made its way as a faint echo of a dream through one of the vine-covered, gable windows of the Briars and the effect thereof was well-nigh instantaneous.

Everett, after a hasty and almost as incomplete toilet as the one made by the General in his excitement, arrived on the scene of action just in time to witness the congratulatory interview between Mrs. Sniffie and the mistress of her undying affections.  The long-eared, plumy, young setter-mother stood licking the back of Rose Mary’s neck as she sat on the barn floor with all five of the young tumblers in her lap, with Tobe and Stonie hanging rapturously over her and them, while Uncle Tucker was expatiating on some points that had made themselves evident even at this very early stage of the existence of the little dog babies.

“They ain’t not a single stub nose in the bunch, Uncle Tuck, not a one and everybody’s of thems toes stick way apart,” exclaimed the General, his cheeks red with joyous pride.

“Watch ’em, Miss Ro’ Mary; watch ’em smell Sniffie when I call her over here,” exclaimed Tobe as he held out the pan to Mrs. Sniffer and thus coaxed her from the side of Rose Mary and the small family.  And, sure enough, around squirmed every little white and yellow bunch and up went every little new-born nose as it sniffed at the recession of the maternal fount.  One little precocious even went so far as to attempt to set his wee fore paddies against Rose Mary’s knee and to stiffen a tiny plume of a tail, with a plain instinct to point the direction of the shifting base of supplies.  Rose Mary gave a cry of delight and hugged the whole talented family to her breast, while Stonie and Tobe yelled and danced as Uncle Tucker turned with evident emotion to Everett to claim his congratulations.

“Never saw anything like it in my life,” Everett assured him with the greatest enthusiasm, and, as he spoke, he laughed down into Rose Mary’s lifted blue eyes that were positively tender with pride over the puppies in her arms.  “It’s a sight worth losing the tale of a dream for—­taken all together.”

“And all the others—­I’ll show you,” and, gathering her skirts basketwise, Rose Mary rose to her feet and led the way across the barn, with Sniffer snuffing along at the squirming bundle in her skirts, that swung against the white petticoat ruffling around her slim ankles.  With the utmost care she deposited the puppies in an overturned barrel, nicely lined with hay, that Stonie and Tobe had been preparing.  “They are lovely, Sniffie,” she said softly to the young mother, who jumped in and huddled down beside the babies as her mistress turned to leave them with the greatest reluctance.