trouble yo' young heads 'bout de makin' ob de cakes an' jellies an'
custards an' sich. Ole Aunt Viney can 'tend to it all."

"But we want the fun of it," persisted Lucy; "we want to try our hands
at beating eggs, rolling sugar, sifting flour, etc., etc. I've got a
grand new receipt book here, and we'll read out the recipes to you,
and measure and weigh the materials, and you can do the mixing and
baking."

"Yes, missy, you' lily hands no' hab strength to stir, an' de fire
spoil yo' buful 'plexions for shuah."

"I've brought mamma's keys," said Lucy; "come along with us to the
store-room, Aunt Viney, and I'll deal out the sugar, spices, and
whatever else you want."

"Yes, Miss Lucy; but 'deed I don't need no help. You's berry kind, but
ole Viney kin do it all, an' she'll have eberything fus'-rate fo' de
young gemmen an' ladies."

"But that isn't the thing, auntie; you don't seem to understand. Miss
Elsie and I want the fun, and to learn to cook, too. Who knows but we
may some day have to do our own work?"

"Bress de Lord, Miss Lucy, how you talk, honey!" cried the old
negress, rolling up her eyes in horror at the thought.

"Take care; Miss Elsie will think you very wicked if you use such
exclamations as that."