"Now please just go to oblige me, Aunt Betsey," said Sue; "Charlie and I want you and Uncle Jake to go to church for a very particular reason. You can not refuse me, I am sure."
The old woman grumbled and scolded and shuffled about in a discontented way, but the pleading little Sue stood firm, and gave an exulting shout as she finally closed the door upon both of them.
"Hurrah!" exclaimed Charlie, and then they both went to work.
The poor little cabin had to be swept and dusted, and all the cracked crockery well wiped, but Sue had tied on a great big apron, and Charlie pinned on a huge towel, and declared himself head waiter. Then the market-basket, carefully concealed in the wood-shed, had to be unpacked, and Sue's mother had given a bright red table-cover, and all sorts of nice little things to fill up corners; and when at last everything was set out, and green boughs hung over the doors, and the ready-cooked turkey was fizzing over again in the oven, and the dinner was ready, Sue and Charlie hid themselves behind a door and waited for Aunt Betsey and Uncle Jake. Slowly the old people came grumbling home as they had grumbled out. They were old and stiff and poor, and what was there to be thankful for? For the rheumatism? Yes, if God willed it, said Aunt Betsey, who, however, was far from cheerful.
"WHAT DOSE CHILLEN BIN ABOUT?"
They pushed open the door, and the savory smell of cooking saluted them.
"Hi, Uncle Jake, what you tink o' dis? what's de meanin' of all dis yer?" said Aunt Betsey.
Uncle Jake's mouth opened wide, as if the better to inhale the rich odors.
"Who's bin hiyar? What dose chillen bin about? Good gracious me! if dis ain't a dinner fit fur a king."