and she
was not minded to lend any molasses under the circumstances, for "a
trifling foolish" cake. Obed's representation of the distress of the
Ely baby, however, appealed even to her, and she lent him a large
spoonful of the precious liquid.

That afternoon there was as much visiting about among the Colchester
housewives as the drifts permitted. Such a state of things had never
been known since the town was settled. No molasses! And Thanksgiving
appointed for the first Thursday in November! Pray what would
Thanksgiving amount to, they inquired, with no pumpkin pies, no baked
beans, no molasses cake, no proper sweetening for the rum so freely
used in those days?

Mistress Esteem Elliott was even more troubled than the rest of
Colchester, for was not her buxom daughter, and only child, Prudence
Ann, to be married on Thanksgiving Day to the son of a great magnate
in the neighbouring town of Hebron? And was it not the intention to
invite all of the aristocracy of both towns to be present at the
marriage feast?

Mistress Elliott accordingly pursued her way upon this Tuesday
afternoon, October 19, 1705, over to Mistress Achsah Ely's. There she
found Mistress Belding, who, remembering Mistress Elliott's refusal to
lend her molasses, was naturally somewhat chill in her manner.

Mistress Elliott had scarcely pulled off her homespun leggings (made
with stout and ample feet) and pulled out her knitting work, when
Mistress Camberly, the parson's wife, a lady of robust habit and
voluble tongue, came in.

"And what are we going to do, Mistress Ely?" she burst out, as soon as
the door was opened at her knock. "Not a drop of molasses to be had
for love nor money, and Thanksgiving Day set for the 4th of November!"

"Mistress Elliott has a-plenty of molasses," affirmed Mistress
Belding, with a haughty look at her unaccommodating neighbour.

"I'd have you to know, Mistress Betty Belding," retorted Mistress
Elliott, "that I have a bare quart or so in my jug, and, so far as I
can learn, that is all that the whole town of Colchester has got to
depend upon till the roads or the river can be broken to Norwich."

Mistress Ely well understood this little passage-at-arms, for Obed had
told her the whole story; but as her baby had been cured by Mistress
Elliott's molasses, she did not think it proper to interfere in the
matter. Neither did the good parson's wife, although she could not
comprehend the rights of the case. She simply repe