"Hungry! That's no name for it!" voiced Miss Dixon. "Have you any lobsters, Mr. Apgar?" "Lobsters? No'm. They don't raise none of them birds out here. But we got chicken." "Oh, listen to him, Pearl!" exclaimed Miss Dixon. "He thinks a lobster is a bird." "Don't mind them," said Paul Ardite to Sandy, in a low voice. "It hasn't been many years that they could afford lobster. Chicken for mine, every time." "Well, they do say ma cooks th' best chicken around here," spoke Sandy, proudly. "She done it in Southern style this time." "Say no more!" exclaimed Mr. DeVere. "Sandy, you are a gentleman and a scholar. How long will it take us to get to your farm?" "About half an hour." "That's twenty-nine minutes too long, since you have mentioned chicken in Southern style. But do your best." Seated in the comfortable carryall, the members of the moving picture company began their trip to Oak Farm. The way lay along a pleasant country road, and in the distance could be seen the cool, green hills. It was early June, and, all about, the farmers were doing their work. The air was sweet with the scent of flowers and the green woods, for the road led past several forest patches where the wind swept pleasantly through the swaying trees. "Oh, it is just lovely here!" sighed Ruth, as she removed her hat and let the gentle wind blow about her hair. "I know I shall love it. And, Daddy dear, maybe it will do your voice good." "Perhaps it will, daughter," he agreed. "However, since we are doing so well in moving pictures, I have not the desire I had at first to get back to the boards. I am becoming content in this line." "I'm glad," said Alice, "for I like it very much. Oh, it is lovely here, Ruth!" "Just fine, I call it!" exclaimed Russ. "The air is so clear. I'm sure we'll get fine pictures here." "I know we'll die of loneliness," grumbled Miss Pennington. "I wish we hadn't come, Laura." "So do I, but there's no help for it now," replied Miss Dixon. Rumbling behind the carryall was the farm wagon containing the trunks, and in less than the half-hour stipulated by Sandy, Oak Farm was reached. Ruth, Alice and their father fell in love with the place at first sight. Mr. Pertell and Russ had seen it before, and most of the others admired it. There was a big, old-fashioned farmhouse, setting back from the road, and fronted by a wide stretch of green lawn. The house was white, with green shutters, and was well kept. Back of it were barns and other farm buildings, some of which were rather dilapidated. "Welcome to Oak Farm!" cried Sandy. "There's Pa Felix and Ma Nance lookin' for ye! Here they are, Ma!" he called. "All ready for your chicken." "Bring 'em right in!" the mother invited, cordially.