"It isn't Sylvia," replied Miss Martha's voice.
"Where is she, then?" Edna started to leave the hammock.
"Don't disturb yourself. She's happy."
"Examining her berries probably," remarked John.
"That's just what she's doing," returned Miss Lacey, laughing.
"What do you mean?" cried Edna. "Has that girl gone daffy?"
"Now don't get up, Edna," commanded Miss Martha. "Sylvia is cooking."
"Cooking!" Edna rose from the hammock. "At this time of night? Why didn't you ask Jenny"—
"She wouldn't let me. I don't know what it is, any more than you do; but it was something she was bound to do herself, and I had to let her. What takes me is the injustice I've done that child. I never dreamed she had such domestic tendencies. I supposed she was all unpractical and artistic like her poor father, and to think here she has some recipe she's so crazy about she can't wait till morning." Miss Lacey's voice trailed away in a gratified laugh. "Perhaps it's something Mrs. Lem has taught her."
"Let's go and spy upon her," suggested John.