“Oh, Owen Murray is just a town-bred duffer,” said Matthew, as he shouldered his last sack of grain.

“Well, you are vastly mistaken if you think that—­” Bess was beginning to say in a manner that I knew from long experience would bring on a war of words between her and Matthew when a large and cheerful interruption in the shape and person of Aunt Mary Corn-tassel came around the corner of the house.

“Well, well, what sort of city farming is going on to-day amongst all these stylish folks?” she asked as she skirted the two cars at what she considered a safe and respectful distance, and handed me a bunch of sweet clover-pinks with a spring perfume that made me think of the breath of Pan O’Woods as I buried my lips in them.  “You, Polly, go right home and take off that linen dress, get into a gingham apron, and begin to help Bud milk.  I believe in gavots at parties only if they strengthen muscles for milking time.”

“May I wait and ride down with Mr. Matthew and show him where to put our wheat, Mother?” asked Polly as she snuggled up to her mother, who was pinning a stray pink into Matthew’s button-hole per his request.

“Yes, if he’ll put his legs under old Mrs. Butter to help you get done before I am ready to strain up,” answered Aunt Mary, with a merry twinkle in her eye as she regarded Matthew in his purple and fine linen.  “Put an apron on him,” she added.

“Lead me to the apron,” said Matthew, with real and not mock heroics.

“But before you go I want to tell all of you about an invitation that has come over the telephone in the bank to all of Riverfield, and make a consultation about it.  Now who do you suppose gave it?”

“Who?” we all asked in chorus.

“Nobody less than the governor of the State called up Silas, me answering for him on account of his deafness, and asked everybody to come in to town next Saturday night to hear this new commissioner of agriculture that he is going to appoint make the opening address of his office, I reckon you could call it.  You know Silas is the leading Democrat of this district, and the governor has opened riz biscuits with me many a time.  I told him ’Thank you, sir,’ we would all come and hear the young man talk about what he didn’t know, and he laughed and rang off.  Yes, we are all going in a kind of caravan of vehicles, and I want you to go, Nancy, in the family coach and take Mrs. Tillett with you on account of her having to take all the seven little Tilletts, because there won’t be a minder woman left to look after ’em.  Bud will drive so as not to disturb Cradd or William in their Heathen pursuits or discommode Rufus’ disposition.  Now, won’t it be nice for the whole town to go junketing in like that?” As she spoke Aunt Mary beamed upon us all with pure delight.

“But Saturday evening is the night that Mr. Matthew is going to have that dance for me, Mother,” said Polly, with the violets becoming slightly sprinkled underneath the long black lashes.