it? Say?" Certainly not the speaker, who had done the act
suggested, nor the penitent and remorseful hearer, who repeated it
next day.

The pies and cakes made by the old woman were, I think, remarkable
rather for their inducing the same loyal and generous spirit than
for their intrinsic excellence, and it may be said appealed more
strongly to the nobler aspirations of humanity than its vulgar
appetite. Howbeit, everybody ate Mammy Downey's pies, and thought
of his childhood. "Take 'em, dear boys," the old lady would say;
"it does me good to see you eat 'em; reminds me kinder of my poor
Sammy, that, ef he'd lived, would hev been ez strong and beg ez you
be, but was taken down with lung fever, at Sweetwater. I kin see
him yet; that's forty year ago, dear! comin' out o' the lot to the
bake-house, and smilin' such a beautiful smile, like yours, dear
boy, as I handed him a mince or a lemming turnover. Dear, dear,
how I do run on! and those days is past! but I seems to live in you
again!" The wife of the hotel-keeper, actuated by a low jealousy,
had suggested that she "seemed to live OFF them;" but as that
person tried to demonstrate the truth of her statement by reference
to the cost of the raw material used by the old lady, it was
considered by the camp as too practical and economical for
consideration. "Besides," added Cy Perkins, "ef old Mammy wants to
turn an honest penny in her old age, let her do it. How would you
like your old mother to make pies on grub wages? eh?" A suggestion
that so affected his hearer (who had no mother) that he bought
three on the spot. The quality of these pies had never been
discussed but once. It is related that a young lawyer from San
Francisco, dining at the Palmetto restaurant, pushed away one of
Mammy Downey's pies with every expression of disgust and