I put half of the
candy, raisins, and almonds given to me in the holidays and for a
fortnight afterward. The self-denial went hard with me, but I consoled
myself each night with the anticipation of opening day. The end of the
fortnight arrived at last. I promised my sable cohort such a spread in
the playhouse as it and they had never beheld. Barratier, Mariposa's
brother, borrowed a hammer and chisel from "the shop," and pried off the
lid. All crowded close to peep in. The box was almost full. Sticks of
peppermint candy, with ribbons of red and white winding about them (a
barber's pole reminds me of them to this hour); lollipops, also of
peppermint, that would just go into my mouth and let the roof down and
the teeth meet; cubes of amber lemon candy; and, most delicately
delicious of all, squares of pink rose-candy that dissolved upon the
tongue and smelt like the Vale of Cashmere to the very last grain;
bunches of raisins, which we--and Jacky Horner--called "plums"; almonds,
palm-nuts, filberts; small ginger cakes of a cut and size that Aunt
'Ritta would not make for us unless she were in a particularly good
humor;--the sight called forth a round-eyed and round-mouthed
"_Aw-w-w!_" from the heads packed in a solid circle, as necks craned
eagerly forward.

For five heavenly minutes I was a fairy-godmother, a Lady Bountiful,
with whom the ability to give was coequal with the desire. I made them
sit down in rows on the carpeted boards. I hope there was not sacrilege
in thinking, as I gave the order, how and where a similar command had
been spoken. Beginning with the babies, I put a bit of candy upon each
greedy palm, bidding my pensioners wait until I gave the signal to eat
it. Then I took a pink cube between my thumb and finger, waved it
theatrically above my head, and popped it into my mouth. Every other
mouth opened simultaneously.

Even now I hurry over the telling. The treasure-chest was of green pine
boards. The contents were so strongly impregnated with turpentine that
not a morsel was eatable. The weest pickaninny spat it out and squalled
because the turpentine burned his tongue.

I could dwell tearfully--possibly profitably--upon the moral of the
adventure, had I not left Lucy Bray all this time on my mother's lap,
and myself fingering the oiled calico in covetous admiration.

"Mother," I said, "I wish, next time you go to Richmond, you would buy
me a frock like this. Don't you think it is pretty?"

"Very pr