What Diantha Did | Page 4

supper."
"No butter?" said Mrs. Warden, incredulously. "Why, Sukey, I'm sure
we had a tub sent up last--last Tuesday!"
"A week ago Tuesday, more likely, mother," suggested Dora.
"Nonsense, Dora! It was this week, wasn't it, girls?" The mother
appealed to them quite earnestly, as if the date of that tub's delivery
would furnish forth the supper-table; but none of the young ladies save
Dora had even a contradiction to offer.
"You know I never notice things," said the artistic Cora; and "the
de-lines," as their younger sisters called them, said nothing.
"I might borrow some o' Mis' Bell?" suggested Sukey; "dat's nearer 'n'
de sto'."
"Yes, do, Sukey," her mistress agreed. "It is so hot. But what have you
done with that tubful?"
"Why, some I tuk back to Mis' Bell for what I borrered befo'--I'm
always most careful to make return for what I borrers--and yo' know,
Mis' Warden, dat waffles and sweet potaters and cohn bread dey do
take butter; to say nothin' o' them little cakes you all likes so
well--_an'_ de fried chicken, _an'_--"
"Never mind, Sukey; you go and present my compliments to Mrs. Bell,
and ask her for some; and be sure you return it promptly. Now, girls,
don't let me forget to tell Ross to send up another tub."
"We can't seem to remember any better than you can, mother," said
Adeline, dreamily. "Those details are so utterly uninteresting."
"I should think it was Sukey's business to tell him," said Madeline with

decision; while the "a-lines" kept silence this time.
"There! Sukey's gone!" Mrs. Warden suddenly remarked, watching the
stout figure moving heavily away under the pepper trees. "And I meant
to have asked her to make me a glass of shrub! Dora, dear, you run and
get it for mother."
Dora laid down her work, not too regretfully, and started off.
"That child is the most practical of any of you," said her mother; which
statement was tacitly accepted. It was not extravagant praise.
Dora poked about in the refrigerator for a bit of ice. She ho no idea of
the high cost of ice in that region--it came from "the store," like all their
provisions. It did not occur to her that fish and milk and melons made a
poor combination in flavor; or that the clammy, sub-offensive smell
was not the natural and necessary odor of refrigerators. Neither did she
think that a sunny corner of the back porch near the chimney, though
convenient, was an ill-selected spot for a refrigerator. She couldn't find
the ice-pick, so put a big piece of ice in a towel and broke it on the edge
of the sink; replaced the largest fragment, used what she wanted, and
left the rest to filter slowly down through a mass of grease and
tea-leaves; found the raspberry vinegar, and made a very satisfactory
beverage which her mother received with grateful affection.
"Thank you, my darling," she said. "I wish you'd made a pitcherful."
"Why didn't you, Do?" her sisters demanded.
"You're too late," said Dora, hunting for her needle and then for her
thimble, and then for her twist; "but there's more in the kitchen."
"I'd rather go without than go into the kitchen," said Adeline; "I do
despise a kitchen." And this seemed to be the general sentiment; for no
one moved.
"My mother always liked raspberry shrub," said Mrs. Warden; "and
your Aunt Leicester, and your Raymond cousins."

Mrs. Warden had a wide family circle, many beloved relatives,
"connections" of whom she was duly proud and "kin" in such widening
ramifications that even her carefully reared daughters lost track of
them.
"You young people don't seem to care about your cousins at all!"
pursued their mother, somewhat severely, setting her glass on the
railing, from whence it was presently knocked off and broken.
"That's the fifth!" remarked Dora, under breath.
"Why should we, Ma?" inquired Cora. "We've never seen one of
them--except Madam Weatherstone!"
"We'll never forget _her!"_ said Madeline, with delicate decision,
laying down the silk necktie she was knitting for Roscoe. "What
beautiful manners she had!"
"How rich is she, mother? Do you know?" asked Dora.
"Rich enough to do something for Roscoe, I'm sure, if she had a proper
family spirit," replied Mrs. Warden. "Her mother was own cousin to
my grandmother--one of the Virginia Paddingtons. Or she might do
something for you girls."
"I wish she would!" Adeline murmured, softly, her large eyes turned to
the horizon, her hands in her lap over the handkerchief she was
marking for Roscoe.
"Don't be ungrateful, Adeline," said her mother, firmly. "You have a
good home and a good brother; no girl ever had a better."
"But there is never anything going on," broke in Coraline, in a tone of
complaint; "no parties, no