"Will you make me a fine big cake, Aunt Connie?" she asked.
"Lan', course I will, chile! But, w'at you wan' it fer?" answered Aunt
Connie, smiling down at the little girl whom she loved so dearly.
"It's a secret, Aunt Connie! I want to give it away, and I don't want to tell even my mother until—well," and Sylvia hesitated a moment, and then continued, "until next week. Then I will tell her, and you too."
"Dat's right, Missy. I'll make yo' de finest cake I knows how. Le's see! I'll put citron, an' raisins, an' currants in it. An' butter! Yas, thar'll be a fine lot o' things in dat cake!" and Aunt Connie rolled her eyes, and lifted her hands as if she could already taste its richness.
All that afternoon Sylvia could think of nothing but the proposed trip. She sat with Mrs. Carleton a little while before supper, and told her of what Uncle Peter had said: that ships from the north were on the way to the aid of Fort Sumter.
"Oh! I do wish I could send the news to Sumter. It would give them all courage," said Mrs. Carleton.
Sylvia was for a moment tempted to tell her friend that she would carry the message, but she kept silent, thinking to herself that here was another reason for her to carry out her plan.
"If you could send a message to Captain Carleton what would you say?" questioned Sylvia, and Mrs. Carleton smiled at Sylvia's serious voice.
"Why, if I could only let him know that I was safe and well and going to Boston with you, in case Sumter really is attacked; I know that is what he wants to hear."
Mrs. Carleton's smile vanished. Sylvia realized that this kind friend was troubled, and wished with all her heart that she could say: "To-morrow I will tell you all about Captain Carleton." But she knew that she must keep silent until she had carried out her plan.