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 lusty cawing. So much so that Mr. Brown and his son who were working in a distant field heard them plainly.

"What a racket the crows are making in the grove," said young Tom. "If we weren't so busy, I would go up and shoot a few."

"It is the annual gathering," returned his father. "They have it every year. What are two or three crows out of five hundred? You had better stick to getting in the corn. They have taken enough of it already."

"I was down at the house roosting in the old pine listening for wisdom," said the president when the cawing had ceased, "and I heard Mr. Brown say that women were very important this year. They were voting, or something of the kind. I do not know just what that means, but I guess we had better follow in their lead. So we will have a few words from our senior mother, Mrs. Black Night, who is so much revered by this clan."

"Good, good," chorused the convention.

Mrs. Black Night flopped up close to the shining chairman with a coquettish air and