MOTHER CAREY'S CHICKENS By KATE DOUGLAS WIGGIN CONTENTS I. MOTHER CAREY HERSELF II. THE CHICKENS III. THE COMMON DENOMINATOR IV. THE BROKEN CIRCLE V. HOW ABOUT JULIA? VI. NANCY'S IDEA VII. "OLD BEASTS INTO NEW" VIII. THE KNIGHT OF BEULAH CASTLE IX. GILBERT'S EMBASSY X. THE CAREYS' FLITTING XI. THE SERVICE ON THE THRESHOLD XII. COUSIN ANN XIII. THE PINK OF PERFECTION XIV. WAYS AND MEANS XV. BELONGING TO BEULAH XVI. THE POST-BAG XVII. JACK OF ALL TRADES XVIII. THE HOUSE OF LORDS XIX. OLD AND NEW XX. THE PAINTED CHAMBER XXI. A FAMILY RHOMBOID XXII. CRADLE GIFTS XXIII. NEARING SHINY WALL XXIV. A LETTER FROM GERMANY XXV. "FOLLOWING THE GLEAM" XXVI. A ZOOLOGICAL FATHER XXVII. THE CAREY HOUSEWARMING XXVIII. "TIBI SPLENDET FOCUS" XXIX. "TH' ACTION FINE" XXX. THE INGLENOOK XXXI. GROOVES OF CHANGE XXXII. DOORS OF DARING XXXIII. MOTHER HAMILTON'S BIRTHDAY. XXXIV. NANCY COMES OUT XXXV. THE CRIMSON RAMBLER I MOTHER CAREY HERSELF "By and by there came along a flock of petrels, who are Mother Carey's own chickens.... They flitted along like a flock of swallows, hopping and skipping from wave to wave, lifting their little feet behind them so daintily that Tom fell in love with them at once." Nancy stopped reading and laid down the copy of "Water Babies" on the sitting-room table. "No more just now, Peter-bird," she said; "I hear mother coming." It was a cold, dreary day in late October, with an east wind and a chill of early winter in the air. The cab stood in front of Captain Carey's house, with a trunk beside the driver and a general air of expectancy on the part of neighbors at the opposite windows. Mrs. Carey came down the front stairway followed by Gilbert and Kathleen; Gilbert with his mother's small bag and travelling cloak, Kathleen with her umbrella; while little Peter flew to the foot of the stairs with a small box of sandwiches pressed to his bosom. Mrs. Carey did not wear her usual look of sweet serenity, but nothing could wholly mar the gracious dignity of her face and presence. As she came down the stairs with her quick, firm tread, her flock following her, she looked the ideal mother. Her fine height, her splendid carriage, her deep chest, her bright eye and fresh color all bespoke the happy, contented, active woman, though something in the way of transient anxiety lurked in the eyes and lips. "The carriage is too early," she said; "let us come into the sitting room for five minutes. I have said my good-byes and kissed you all a dozen times, but I shall never be done until I am out of your sight." "O mother, mother, how can we let you go!" wailed Kathleen. "Kitty! how can you!" exclaimed Nancy. "What does it matter about us when mother has the long journey and father is so ill?"