Understanding came to Miss Theodosia, though a little slowly. Was she growing stupid?
"Evangeline, we'll make Stefana's cake together; we'll take turns 'stirrin''! We'll do it over here and keep it a beautiful secret."
The child was standing up now certainly, her wiry little body a-tilt with excitement, a-quiver with it. Evangeline's eyes shone.
"Oh, I knew you would! I knew you would! You're such a nangel! If you was a kind of folks that liked to be kissed—"
The soft pink of Miss Theodosia's cheeks! She lifted her head and sat very still.
"Come and try me, dear. Maybe I am that kind of folks." And in a little whirlwind of tender gratitude descended Evangeline upon her. It was a whole-souled kiss, the only brand possible to Evangeline.
"I—I am that kind!" gasped Miss Theodosia, emerging laughing but tender-eyed. "Now let's begin the cake."
"Oh, yes, mercy gracious, yes! I'll go get the eggs 'n' graham flour, an'—an' molasses. Could we sweeten it with molasses, Miss Theodosia? It'll take all o' my sugar for the frostin'. We are pretty used to bein' sweetened with molasses—"
Miss Theodosia had a swift mental taste on her tongue of Stefana's graham birthday cake, molasses-sweet. There were her heartstrings at their odd little twitching again!
"You won't have to go home at all, Evangeline. I've got all the materials—" but at sight of the child's face, a little fallen and troubled, she hastily appended—"except the eggs. I guess you'd better go home and get those."