They say little Mote has gone to Union to stop all night
with his uncle Abijah, 'n' that leaves Rube all alone,
for the smith girl that does his chores is home sick
with the hives. And what do you s'pose is in the pail?
_Fruit_ _cake_,--that's what 't is, no more 'n' no less!
I knowed that Smith girl didn't bake it, 'n' so I asked 'em,
'n' they said Miss Emery give it to 'em. There was two little
round try-cakes, baked in muffin-rings. Eunice hed took some o'
the batter out of a big loaf 'n' baked it to se how it was goin'
to turn out. That means wedding-cake, or I'm mistaken!"

"There ain't no gittin' round that," agreed the assembled company,
"now is there, Mis' Bascom?"

Old Mrs. Bascom wet her finger, smoothed the parting
of her false front, and looked inscrutable.

"I don't see why you're so secret," objected Diadema.

"I've got my opinions, and I've had 'em some time,"
observed the good lady. "I don't know 's I'm bound to tell 'em
and have 'em held up to ridicule. Let the veal hang, I say.
If any one of us is right, we'll all know to-morrow."

"Well, all any of us has got to judge from is appearances," said Diadema,
"and how you can twist 'em one way, and us another, stumps me!"

"Perhaps I see more appearances than you do,"
retorted her mother-in-law. "Some folks mistakes all they see
for all there is. I was reading a detective story last week.