n, and that the wind howling under the eaves
was wolves, roaring 'round and 'round the camp-fire, looking for little
girls to eat. Mary 'Liza was Mr. Bray, I was Cousin Mary, Lucy was just
herself, and she did her part well.

On Tuesday, which I heard Mam' Chloe say to my mother in a solemn sort
of way was "the third day," our dinner was brought upstairs. We set the
table for ourselves by covering a packing-box with an old sheet, and
putting our plates and mugs and the dishes holding our food upon it.
Mary 'Liza was at the foot of the table, I at the head, and Lucy sat up,
prim and well-behaved, at the side, saying, "Yes, ma'am," to me and,
"No, thank you, sir," to Mary 'Liza. We were making merry over the feast
when the door opened and my mother came in with her maid Marthy, who had
a plate in her hand with three round cakes on it. Pound-cake, baked in
little pans, and warm from the oven! I danced and screamed for joy. Mary
'Liza sat still, her hands in her lap, and said, "Thank you," when her
cake was put on her plate. Lucy laughed all over her face without saying
anything, but when my mother sat down on a chair to rest after climbing
the stairs, the child ran to her and put both arms around her neck and
laid her cheek on her shoulder.

I can see her now--the picture was so pretty! Her hair was dark brown
and waved naturally away from her forehead, making her face rather oval
than round; her gray eyes were clear and large, and, when she was not
smiling or talking, there was a serious shadow far down in them. She had
a dear little mouth, and I liked to make her laugh that I might see the
dimples come and go in her cheeks.

Her frock was a new material to Mary 'Liza and me,--bright red, with a
tiny black clover leaf dotting it. They called the stuff "oiled calico,"
and, by putting my nose close to it, I could distinguish an odor that
was something like oil. What we knew as "Turkey red," many years later,
resembled it somewhat, but the oiled calico was much finer and softer.

My mother lifted the slight figure to her lap, and I pressed close to
her other side, nibbling my cake, crumb by crumb, to make it last
longer. I had a habit of swallowing my goodies as soon as I got them.
Mary 'Liza always put aside part of hers "until next time."

At Christmas I had made a valiant effort to be economical and
forehanded, and got the plantation carpenter to knock together a
savings-bank for me, with a hole in the top. Into this