eltingly luscious and
moist in one's mouth, with the statement that it had been baked just
seven years before. And when Katharine had exclaimed in amazement, had
replied:

"My suz! That's nothin' to what some keeps it. Mis' Turner, she's got
part her weddin' loaf yet, an' she's been married more years 'an I can
exactly recollect; while her own mother has some 'at's twenty-five years
old. Fact. Hers is gettin' ruther dry, but it's always been kep' in a
stone crock in a tin case an' only opened a-Thanksgiving time, when
everybody in the hull connection is to dinner, and is give a tiny bit
for remembrance' sake."

Thinking over her guardian's information, there seemed to be no house
where the young folks would have leisure for company, and the home
prospect was rather lonely.

"Oh, for even a little Snowball to play with! Uncle Moses--I was rude to
him, but he's so cross I can't go back and be shut up with him this
beautiful afternoon. If I go just to say that I'm sorry he'll make me
tell him a lot of stories to prove my sorrow. That's one of his ways.
The Widow Sprigg is sufficient unto herself and her scrubbing--of a
Saturday. I've found that out. Deacon Meakin isn't at the barn and I
might go there, but he's spoiled the barn for me. I feel just as if I
was in somebody's parlor, some Marsden body's parlor, that's so much in
order it makes everybody who goes into it as stiff as itself. I've found
that out, too, going calling with Aunt Eunice. I wish--"

Susanna suddenly called out to the girl sitting upon the porch step and
thus ruefully communing with herself:

"Ka-ty! Katharine!"

"Yes, Widow Sprigg! Here I am--coming. What is it? Something to do?"

"Well, I should say 'twas somethin' to do! Here's that wild-headed Monty
took an' scampered off just as I was takin' this batch of punkin pies
out the oven. Eunice wants me to send a couple of 'em to Madam, an' this
currant-jell-roll. I laid out to add a loaf of brown bread an' a pat of
butter, 'cause, say what they will, an' let Madam Sturtevant be as good
butter maker as they claim, I 'low old Whitey's milk can't hold to
richness alongside our young Alderneys; an' besides, can't be much milk
left for butter after Monty an' Alfy's drunk their fill. 'Tain't much
besides milk they do get, nuther, 'cept what we send 'em. Well, it's
most like two families bein' one the way Eunice she feels. I wonder,
could you be trusted to carry the things to the Mansion?"

"Could I