Grandma set
smaller stints than Mrs. Polly. As time went on, she helped about the
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's pots and kettles were all
prepared to hang on the trammels when Grandma's were, and an army of
cakes and pies marshaled 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 offense.
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.
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