Produced by Charles Franks, Robert Rowe and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team. HTML version by Al Haines. The Road To Providence by Maria Thompson Daviess CONTENTS I THE DOCTORS MAYBERRY, MOTHER AND SON II THE SINGER LADY AND THE BREAD-BOWL III THE PEONY GIRL AND THE BUMPKIN IV LOVE, THE CURE-ALL V THE LITTLE RAVEN AND HER COVERED DISH VI THE PROVIDENCE TAG-GANG VII PRETTY BETTIE'S WEDDING DAY VIII THE NEST ON PROVIDENCE NOB IX THE LITTLE HARPETH WOMAN OF MANY SORROWS X THE SONG OF THE MASTER'S GRAIL CHAPTER I THE DOCTORS MAYBERRY, MOTHER AND SON "Now, child, be sure and don't mix 'em with a heavy hand! Lightness is expected of riz biscuits and had oughter be dealt out to 'em by the mixer from the start. Just this way--" "Mother, oh, Mother," came a perturbed hail in Doctor Mayberry's voice from the barn door, "Spangles is off the nest again--better come quick!" "Can't you persuade her some, Tom?" Mother called back from the kitchen door as she peered anxiously across the garden fence and over to the gray barn where the Doctor stood holding the door half open, but ready for a quick close-up in case of an unexpected sally. "My hands is in the biscuits and I don't want to come now. Just try, Tom!" "I have tried and I can't do it! She's getting the whole convention agitated. You'd better come on, Mother!" "Dearie me," said Mrs. Mayberry, as she rinsed her hands in the wash-pan on the shelf under tin cedar bucket, "Tom is just as helpless with the chickens at setting time as a presiding elder is at a sewing circle; can't use a needle, too stiff to jine the talk and only good when it comes to the eating, from broilers to frying size. Just go on and mix the biscuits with faith, honey-bird, for I mistrust I won't be back for quite a spell." "Now let me see what all these conniptions is about," she said in a commanding voice, as she walked boldly in through her son's cautiously widened door gap. And a scene of confusion that was truly feminine met her capable glance. Fuss-and-Feathers, a stylish young spangled Wyandotte, was waltzing up and down the floor and shrieking an appeal in the direction of a whole row of half-barrel nests that stretched along the dark and sequestered side of the feed-room floor, upon which was established what had a few minutes before been a placid row of setting hens. Now over the rim of each nest was stretched a black, white, yellow or gray head, pop-eyed with alarm and reproach. They were emitting a chorus of indignant squawks, all save a large, motherly old dominick in the middle barrel who was craning her scaly old neck far over toward the perturbed young sister and giving forth a series of reassuring and commanding clucks.