ed Miss Jerusha, rattling a pan of
buns briskly into the oven.

"We'd better make some Brighton Rock. It is gone out of fashion, but our
brothers used to be dreadful fond of it, and boys are about alike all
the world over. Ma's _resate_ never fails, and it will be a new treat
for the little dears."

"S'pose we have an extra can of milk left and give 'em a good mugful?
Some of those poor things look as if they never got a drop. Peck sells
beer, and milk is a deal better. Shall we, sister?"

"We'll try it, Jerushy. In for a penny, in for a pound."

And upon that principle the old ladies did the thing handsomely,
deferring the great event till Monday, that all might be in apple-pie
order. They said nothing of it when the lads came on Friday morning, and
all Saturday, which was a holiday at school, was a very busy one with
them.

"Hullo! Miss Hetty _has_ done it now, hasn't she? Look at that, old
Peck, and tremble!" exclaimed Charley to his mates, as he came down the
street on Monday morning, and espied a neat little sign on the sisters'
door, setting forth the agreeable fact that certain delectable articles
of food and drink could be had within at reasonable prices during
recess.

No caps were at the windows, but behind the drawn curtains two beaming
old faces were peeping out to see how the boys took the great
announcement. Whoever remembers Hawthorne's half-comic, half-pathetic
description of poor Hepsibah Pyncheon's hopes and fears, when arranging
her gingerbread wares in the little shop, can understand something of
the excitement of the sisters that day, as the time drew near when the
first attempt was to be made.

"Who will set the door open?" said Miss Hetty when the fateful moment
came, and boys began to pour out into the yard.

"I will!" And, nerving herself to the task, Miss Jerusha marched boldly
round the table, set wide the door, and then, as the first joyful whoop
from the boys told that the feast was in view, she whisked back into the
parlor panic-stricken.

"There they come,--hundreds of them, I should think by the sound!" she
whispered, as the tramp of feet came nearer, and the clamor of voices
exclaiming,--

"What bully buns!" "Ain't those cookies rousers?" "New stuff too, looks
first-rate." "I told you it wasn't a joke." "Wonder how Peck likes it?"
"Dickson sha'n't come in." "You go first, Charley." "Here's a cent for
you, Briggs; come on and trade like the rest of us."

"I'm so flurried I