at to see with what
skill the comely settler of the wilderness mixed and tossed and patted
her jonny-cake, famous all through that countryside for lightness and
delicacy; and as she finished each batch of dough, and slapped it down
upon the board where it was to cook, she would hand it over to Kitty's
charge, with the injunction:

"Carry that to one of the fires, an' stand it up slantin', so 's to
give it a good chance to bake even. Watch 'em all, too; an' as soon as
they are a nice brown on one side, either call me to turn 'em to the
other, or else do it yourself. As Mercy Smith says, a girl can't begin
too early to housekeep."

"But this is out-door keep, isn't it?" laughed the Sun Maid, as, with
a board upon each arm, she bounded away to place the cakes as she had
been directed.

In ordinary, Mercy Smith was not a lavish woman; but on such a day as
this she threw thrift to the wind and, brought out the best she could
procure for the refreshment of her guests; and everybody knows how
much better food tastes when eaten out-of-doors than in regular
fashion beside a table. The dinner was a huge success; and even
Gaspar, whom Kitty's loving watchful eyes had noticed was more than
usually serious that day, so far relaxed his indignation as to partake
of the feast with the other visiting lads.

But, when it was over and the women were gathering up the dishes,
preparatory to cleansing them for their homeward journey, the child
came to where Mercy stood among a group of women, and asked:

"Shall I wash the dishes, Mother Mercy?"

"No, sissy, you needn't. We grown folks'll fix that. If you want
something to do, an' are tired of out-doors, you can set right down
yonder an' rock Mis' Waldron's baby to sleep. By and by, Abel's got a
job for you will suit you to a T!"

Kitty was by no means tired of out-doors, but a baby to attend was
even a greater rarity than a holiday; so she sat down beside the
cradle, which its mother had brought in her great wagon, and gently
swayed the little occupant into a quiet slumber. Then she began to
listen to the voices about her, and presently caught a sentence which
puzzled her.

"Fifty dollars is a pile of money. It's more 'n ary Indian ever was
worth. Let alone a sulky squaw."

"Yes it is. An' I need it. I need it dreadful," assented Mercy,
forgetful of the Sun Maid's presence in the room.

"Well, I, for one, should be afraid of her," observed another visitor,
clattering the knives