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"I wonder now," she said, "if they don't want my receet for Cousin Mirandy's weddin' cake; it's in th' Bible there" nodding over to the little stand. Peletiah, seeing her so absorbed, waited patiently till the second letter was called for. He never for an instant thought of sliding off; so he pulled it out of its envelope, and got ready.
"Can't I have the next best one, then?" asked Polly, despairingly, feeling sure that "Mirandy's wedding cake" would have celebrated the day just right; "and I must hurry right home, please," she added, getting down from the chair, and tying on her hood; "or Phronsie won't know what to do."
"Waal," he faltered, with an explanatory sob, which was at once ludicrous and pathetic, "I war too fur off ter make out fur sure what 'twar on the ledge. 'Twar black-lookin', an' I 'lowed 'twar a b'ar." All the men laughed at this. "I sot out ter run ter Aunt Mirandy's house ter borry Job's gun ter kem up hyar, an' mebbe git a crack at him," continued Nick.
"The widow Pingree, from over Sharon way, she's so wasteful, I declare it makes my blood run cold to see her cuttin' and slashin' into good cloth; and Emerline Johnson she's so scantin', the menfolks all looks like scarecrows, with their legs and arms a-stickin' out. Mirandy's got faculty."
I ain't goin' to be responsible fer nobody's money but my own an' Mirandy's." "Better see if your own money is safe." Josiah Bean got out his wallet and counted the bills. "Safe enough." "Are you sure? I thought there was only five hundred and fifty." "No, six hundred." "I'll bet you ten dollars on it." "What! can't I count straight," gasped the old farmer, much disturbed.
"Is yo' wanting Miss Mirandy Dows," she asked with great dignity, "oah Miss Sally Dows her niece? Miss Mirandy's bin gone to Atlanta for a week." "I have a letter for Miss Miranda, but I shall be very glad if Miss Sally Dows will receive me," returned Courtland, handing the letter and his card to the girl. She received it with a still greater access of dignity and marked deliberation.
"They're awful hard," said Joel, investigating into the bundle with Davie, which, however, luckily the old lady didn't hear. "There, don't try," she said cheerily; "an' I found cousin Mirandy's weddin' cake receet, for " "Did you?" cried Polly; "oh! I'm so glad!" feeling as if that were comfort enough for a good deal. "Yes, 'twas in my Bible," said Mrs.
At last Grandma pulled herself out of the charms of Cousin Mirandy's receet, and set her spectacles straight. "Who writ that one?" she asked. "Joel," said Peletiah, finding it quite to his liking to read this one, for Joel never wasted any time in preliminaries, but came to the point at once, in big, sprawly letters.
"Waal, ye kin jes' kerry yer bones down the mounting ter Sister Mirandy's house, an' ax her ter fotch me a cake o' her yeast when she kems up hyar ter-day ter holp me sizin' yarn. Arter that I don't keer what ye does with yerself. Ef ye stays hyar along o' we-uns, ye'll haul the roof down nex', I reckon.
If I'd tumbled out o' the window I'd have lit among Mirandy's rose-bushes. They've got their thorns all on at this time o' night." It was necessary for them both to sleep hard after that, for more than half the night was gone and they were to be up early. So indeed they were; but what surprised Mrs. Kinzer when she went into the kitchen was to find Miranda there before her. "You here, my dear?
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