"Did you say that father fixed it?" asked the girl with quick interest.
"'Deed he did, Miss Bee. He done poured de tea, an' put two lumps of sugah in de saucah jest like you does fer de world. Den he fixed de thing on de tray, an' he say, 'Take dat to Miss Beatrice,' he say. 'Co'se I done hit; an' heah I is, an' heah I stays 'twel you eats hit."
"If father fixed it, I will eat it," said Bee. "You are not joking about it, Aunt Fanny? You are sure that he did it, and not Adele?"
"Now, Miss Bee, yer knows dat Miss Adele ain't a-gwine ter bodder her haid 'bout udder folks; specially ef dey ain't erroun'," returned Aunt Fanny scornfully, with whom Adele was no favorite. "No'm; she too busy wid sayin': 'How does ye like yer coffee, uncle deah? Am hit sweet 'nuff fer ye?' Jest like buttah wouldn't melt in her mouf. No'm; Miss Adele ain't a-bodderin' 'bout you all. Ner enny body elsen but her own se'f."
"I don't know about that," demurred Bee, wishing to be just to her cousin. "She certainly looks after old Rachel. I don't believe that she has missed a day going down there for the past three weeks. We must give her credit for that, Aunt Fanny."
"Huh!" snorted Aunt Fanny. "I reckon yer doesn't know ebberthing, Miss Bee."
"What do you mean?" questioned Bee, pausing in the act of taking a bite of bread.
"Nebber you min' what I means," returned the old woman mysteriously. "Jest yer eat yer dinnah."
"But I want to know," insisted Bee. Before Aunt Fanny could answer, however, Adele herself entered the room.
"Uncle William says for you to come right down, Bee. Percival and his mother are there, and wish to see you."