"Is the cake burned?" asked Nat's mother, who was on her way back up stairs.
"No, the cake isn't burned," answered Grandma. "I took it out of the oven before I went to ask you where the chocolate was. But my rocking chair is gone!"
"Your what?" asked Mother Harden.
"Racky—my traveling rocker," went on Grandma. "I brought it out to the kitchen to sit in, while I darned the stockings and watched to see that the cake didn't burn, but now it is gone!"
"Oh, is that all?" laughed her daughter-in-law. "I thought something had happened." And there really had, as was soon found out. "I suppose," went on Nat's mother, "that Lizzie thought you were through with your rocker and has carried it into the living room, where you nearly always sit in it. Lizzie must have taken it."
"What did I take?" asked Lizzie, coming up, just then, from the laundry, in time to hear this last talk. "What did I take, Mrs. Marden?"
"Grandma's rocker," was the answer.
"I had it here in the kitchen, to sit in while I watched the cake baking, and mended the children's stockings," added the dear, fat, old lady. "Did you carry it out, Lizzie!"
"Why, no ma'am, Mrs. Marden, I didn't touch your chair," was the quick answer. "I've been down in the laundry, almost all the time, excepting when I was in the yard hanging out the clothes. I didn't even know you had brought your chair to the kitchen."
"It's very queer," said Grandma, looking about. "And my glasses are gone, too!" she added, as she put her hands to the top of her head where, sometimes, she pushed back her "other eyes," as Weezie used to call them.