The children had their corn-pone, with jelly on it, and the cake was left on the table. News of this wonder soon reached the community, and the first visitors came that evening. For one week the sight lasted. Twelve times did the candles, for a brief space, shine out on the white icing and brighten the flowers. The cake was not moved from the table, but remained there day and night, and the kitten was kept rigidly indoors to frighten away any possible mouse. At length, when the candles had burned to their sockets, Granny cut through the icing and gave a slice to Hazel and one to herself. Hazel ate and said nothing, but she was glad it had not been cut before. Staleness might seem to account in part for the very heavy character of the half-cooked dough. But Granny ate her piece as if it had been ambrosia, the food of the gods. “That are splendid cake,” she exclaimed. “That icing are as sweet as you are, sugar, and I can’t say more.” And she took another slice. CHAPTER XII GOOD-BYE “Granny, please help me to weave once more,” said Hazel, “and I’ll have a good big piece of cotton cloth.” Ever since Hazel had spun the cotton she had wanted to weave it, but her grandmother’s loom was too large for her to handle. Granny had solved the difficulty by saying they could do it together, Hazel throwing the shuttle while she pushed the frame. In this fashion they had woven their cloth. “It’s your work, honey,” Granny had insisted. “You’re doing the weaving, not me.” “Isn’t it hot!” Hazel said, after they had worked for an hour. “April in the South is as warm as June at home. Is it hotter than this in the summer?” “I expect it is,” said Granny, looking at the child’s moist curls. “Don’t do any more now.” They went out on the porch to get cool. “I’ve thought a great deal about my weaving,” said Hazel, very seriously, “and, Granny, I’ve decided to cut some of the cloth into wash-rags so that I can make presents to a number of my friends. I can hem them, can’t I?” “Yes, dearie.” “And then I shall make ten pieces at least. Granny, who is that coming down the road?” Granny stood up and saw a young white lady coming toward them on horseback, who pulled up her horse as she reached the porch. “Does Hazel Tyler live here?” she asked. “Yes,” Hazel replied, going out to her, “I am Hazel Tyler.” “I know your minister,” said the young lady, smiling, “and he asked me to come to see you.” Hazel’s heart swelled with pride. The young lady dismounted, tied her horse, and then, declining to go indoors, sat on the steps with them. “I am afraid you won’t like my errand, Mrs. Tyler,” the new-comer said, “but I have come to ask Hazel if she wishes to go home with me.” “You couldn’t have come on a less welcome errand to me,” said Granny sadly, “but the hot days is coming, and I suppose the child must go North again.”