speaking of us, always used to say: "What fine large children!" until I
hated the very sound of it, and wished most earnestly for Ellen's light,
fairy-like figure. I once resolved to starve myself into growing thin;
and, to Mammy's great surprise, refused to taste the dinner she handed
me, and resolutely persisted in going to bed without my supper. Mammy,
good old soul! watched me narrowly, not having been let into the secret
of my laudable resolve; and while she supposed that I had fallen into a
restless slumber, I was in reality tossing about on my trundle bed,
suffering the tantalizing pains of hunger. I remonstrated with myself in
vain; heard all the _pros_ and _cons_ on both sides in this perplexing
case of vanity _vs._ appetite, and finally resolved to satisfy my
hunger, cost what it would.

But how to do this was the next question. Enticing slices of bread and
butter kept dancing before my eyes; and at length, when I heard the
snore which announced Mammy's departure to the land of dreams, I rose as
quietly as possible, and descended on a foraging expedition to the
pantry. How very nice everything did look! I stood for a moment feasting
my eyes with the sight, but oh, ill-timed delay! I had not tasted a
single morsel, when a low whisper fell upon my ear, and on turning, I
beheld Mammy gazing on me rather fearfully, while at her elbow stood
Jane in night-gown and cap, who was violently rubbing her eyes in order
to clear away the fancied mist, and thus convince herself that it was
really the veritable _me_ who was about to perform such an
unheroine-like part.

This discovery seemed to me exactly like those tantalizing dreams in
which you are sitting down at a table covered with everything nice, but
before you have time to taste anything your visions are rudely
dispelled, and you wake and look in vain for the tempting paraphernalia.