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"Well, wid dat de Jay Bird 'gun ter git madder'n he wuz, an' he 'lowed ter hisse'f dat he'd ax Miss Robin ter his house, so's she could see how he'd fix de Peckerwood; so he sez, "'Miss Robin, I gwine ter hab er party termorrer night; de Woodpecker'll be dar, an' I'd like fur yer ter come. "Miss Robin 'lowed she'd come, and' de Jay Bird tuck his leave.
Well, on the fatal morning of June 27th, the sun rose clear and cloudless, the heavens seemed made of brass, and the earth of iron, and as the sun began to mount toward the zenith, everything became quiet, and no sound was heard save a peckerwood on a neighboring tree, tapping on its old trunk, trying to find a worm for his dinner. We all knew it was but the dead calm that precedes the storm.
Ewe will lick you, and Peckerwood Pup will chew you, so you can't forget them," I exclaimed in relief. "That will be the exact plan for action, Nancy. You can always depend upon me for any of the small attentions that please you, my dear."
"If a peckerwood pecks on de roof of youse house you will sho lose some member of youse family. Dey is pizen. "No I'se jes ter scairt ter go whar day call up Spirits." "Mary and her twin sister were slaves born in Washington County, Kentucky, near Lexington, belonging to Bob Eaglin.
"I remembers I wat a sitting in de house en er peckerwood war a pecking on de house 'Pure bad luck." "I was working once foh Mrs. Shelton wen a little wren kept trying ter git in de house an I kep a shosin hit arway wen he got in somehow jes as soon as hit did Mrs. Shelton called me en I had a telegram from Chicago my neice war dead. She by dat I nos dat am bad luck. I dont like wrens any how."
I had thought that I saw a glint of Peckerwood red pass through the pasture that way, and I was determined that Pan shouldn't give me and the garden the slip as he always did when he saw anybody around.
After luncheon they all departed and left me to my afternoon's work. Matthew lingered behind the others and helped me feed the old red ally and Mrs. Ewe and Peckerwood Pup. "I was talking to Evan Baldwin at the club after his first lecture the other night and, Ann, I believe I'll be recruited for the plow as well as for the machine-gun.
As I lifted it on my arm, its little body gave a shudder and then lay so still that I knew it was dead. Mother Ewe stood near in the shadow and gave a plaintive bleat as she came to my side. "Oh," I sobbed as I looked up at Matthew, "it's dead. What did it?" "A dog," answered Matthew, as he knelt beside me and laid the tiny dead lamb back on the ground. "Not Peckerwood Pup!" I exclaimed.
I am afraid you take these pretty whims of yours too seriously," he said as he beamed affectionately at me over his large glasses. "Because Peckerwood Pup would eat up the Leghorn babies, and it would be extermination to some and survival to the most unfit," I answered in despair. "Oh, won't you please do it by the directions?"
Perhaps I didn't quite believe in the red-headed Peckerwood myself just then, and felt unable to incarnate him to Matthew. Uncle Cradd's welcome to Matthew was very stately and friendly when we went in and found him and father in their high-back chairs on each side of the table, waging the classic argument that Rufus had reported them to have discontinued at an early hour of the morning.
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