armer, "ain't much more real
use than a fifth leg on a caow--for a fac'. But old folks used 'em. My
grandmaw did.

"She useter shovel live coals inter the oven an' build a reg'lar fire on
the oven bottom. Arter it was het right up she'd sweep aout the brands
and ashes with long-handled brushes, an' then set the bread, an' pies,
an' Injun puddin' an' the like--sometimes the beanpot, too--on the oven
floor. Ye see, them bricks will hold heat a long time.

"But lemme tell ye," continued Lucas, shaking his head, "it took the _know
how_, I reckon, ter bake stuff right by sech means. My maw never could
do it. She says either her bread would be all crust, or 'twas raw in the
middle.

"But now," pursued Lucas, "these 'ere what they call 'Dutch ovens' ain't
so bad. I kin remember before dad bought maw the stove, she used a Dutch
oven--an' she's got it yet. I know she'd lend it to you gals."

"That's real nice of you, Lucas," said 'Phemie, briskly. "But what is it?"

"Why, it's a big sheet-iron pan with a tight cover. You set it right in
the coals and shovel coals on top of it and all around it. Things bake
purty good in a Dutch oven--ya-as'm! Beans never taste so good to my
notion as they useter when maw baked 'em in the old Dutch oven. An' dad
says they was 'nough sight better when _he_ was a boy an' grandmaw baked
'em in an oven like that one there," and Lucas nodded at the closet in
the chimney that 'Phemie had opened to peer into.

"Ye see, it's the slow, steady heat that don't die down till
mornin'--that's what bakes beans nice," declared this Yankee epicure.

Lucas had a "knack" with the axe, and he cut and piled enough wood to
last the girls at least a fortnight. Lyddy felt as though she could not
afford to hire him more than that one day at present; but he was going
to town next day and he promised to bring back a pump leather and some few
other necessities that the girls needed.

Before he went home Lucas got 'Phemie off to one side and managed to
stammer:

"If you gals air scart--or the like o' that--you jest say so an' I'll keep
watch around here for a night or two, an' see if I kin ketch the fellers
you heard talkin' last night."

"Oh, Lucas! I wouldn't trouble you for the world," returned 'Phemie.

Lucas's countenance was a wonderful lobster-like red, and he was so
bashful that his eyes fairly watered.

"'Twouldn't be no trouble, Miss 'Phemie," he told her. "'Twould be a
pleasure--it re'lly would."