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.”