authority.

One Sunday morning I was left at home, in consequence of not being well,
with strict injunctions not to get into mischief; while Aunt Henshaw,
Cousin Statia, and Sylvia went to church--the superintendence of the
house being placed in Holly's charge. I settled myself by the parlor
window with my "Pilgrim's Progress" and pursued the thread of
Christian's adventures; while I glanced from time to time on the
prospect without, while the hum of the locusts and lowing of the cows
came borne upon my ear like pleasant sounds. I laid down my book to read
a chapter in the Bible, and was enjoying a very pleasant frame of mind
when the tempter came, in the shape of Holly, and beckoned me into the
kitchen.

Nothing loath, I followed eagerly; and the colored girl proposed that we
should have a small baking. The fire had been carefully put out in the
kitchen, and we concluded to make one on bricks in the yard. After
puffing and blowing with considerable energy, Holly kindled a flame;
and we then concluded to mix up some gingerbread, and bake it in
clam-shells As I heard the monotonous hum of the bees, and remarked the
stillness around, while everything seemed to speak of the Sabbath, my
conscience reproached me; and I was several times on the point of
turning back into the parlor, but I lacked sufficient courage to resist
Holly's glowing descriptions of our gingerbread that was to be. The
store-room closet was pretty dark, and Holly was obliged to go by
guess-work in selecting her materials, but all seemed right; and in
triumph we placed several clam-shells of dough on the fire to bake. We
worked very hard to keep up the flames, but the baking progressed
slowly; and we dreaded to hear the sound of wheels that announced the
return of the church-goers. It was done at last, and we sat down to