cooking. She and Grandma cooked their own victuals, and ate from a
little separate table in the common kitchen. It was a very large
room, and might have accommodated several families, if they could
have agreed. There was a big oven, and a roomy fire-place. Good
Deacon Wales had probably seen no reason at all why his "beloved
wife," should not have her right therein with the greatest peace and
concord.

But it soon came to pass that Mrs. Dorcas' pots and kettles were all
prepared to hang on the trammels when Grandma's were, and an army of
cakes and pies marshalled to go in the oven when Grandma had proposed
to do some baking. Grandma bore it patiently for a long time; but Ann
was with difficulty restrained from freeing her small mind, and her
black eyes snapped more dangerously, at every new offence.

One morning, Grandma had two loaves of "riz bread," and some election
cakes, rising, and was intending to bake them in about an hour, when
they should be sufficiently light. What should Mrs. Dorcas do, but
mix up sour milk bread, and some pies with the greatest speed, and
fill up the oven, before Grandma's cookery was ready!

Grandma sent Ann out into the kitchen to put the loaves in the oven
and lo and behold! the oven was full. Ann stood staring for a minute,
with a loaf of election cake in her hands; that and the bread would
be ruined if they were not baked immediately, as they were raised
enough. Mrs. Dorcas had taken Thirsey and stepped out somewhere, and
there was no one in the kitchen. Ann set the election cake back on
the table. Then, with the aid of the tongs, she reached into the
brick oven and took out every one of Mrs. Dorcas' pies and loaves.
Then she arranged them deliberately in a pitiful semicircle on the