nd past, and Hetty had not called us. What
could be the matter?

Down I flew to find out what ailed Aunt Hetty. She was usually an early
riser.

Before I reached her room, which was on the same floor with the kitchen,
I heard groans issuing from it, and Hetty's voice saying: "Dear me! Oh,
dear me!" in the most despairing, agonizing tones. Hetty always makes
the most of a "misery in her bones."

"What is it, aunty?" I asked, peering into the room, which she _would_
keep as dark as a pocket.

"De misery in my bones, child! De ole king chills! Sometimes I'm up!
Sometimes I'm down!"

The bed shook under the poor thing, and I ran out to ask Patrick to go
for the doctor, while I made the fire, and called the girls to help
prepare breakfast.

First in order after lighting the fire, which being of wood blazed up
directly that the match was applied to the kindlings, came the making of
the corn-meal gruel.

A tablespoonful of corn meal wet with six tablespoonfuls of milk, added
one by one, gradually, so that the meal is quite free from lumps. One
pint of boiling water, and a little salt. You must stir the smooth
mixture of the meal and milk into the boiling water. It will cool it a
little, and you must stir it until it comes to a boil, then stand it
back, and let it simmer fifteen minutes.

The doctor was caught by Patrick just leaving his house to go to a
patient ten miles off. He prescribed for Aunt Hetty, looked in upon
grandmamma, and told me to keep up my courage, I was a capital little
nurse, and he would rather have me to take care of him than anybody else
he knew, if he were ill, which he never was.

He drove off in his old buggy, leaving three little maids watching him
with admiring eyes. We all loved Doctor Chester. "Now, girls," I said,
"we must get our breakfast. We cannot live on air."

Marjorie brought the eggs and milk. Veva cut the bread and picked the
blackberries. I put the pan on to heat for the omelette, and this is the
way we made it:

Three eggs, broken separately and beaten hard--

"In making an omelette,
Children, you see,
The longer you beat it,
The lighter 'twill be,"

hummed Marjorie, add a teaspoonful of milk, and beat up with the eggs;
beat until the very last moment when you pour into the pan, in which you
have dropped a bit of butter, over the hot fire. As soon as it sets,
move the pan to a cooler part of the stove, and slip a knife under the
edge to prevent i