Then, when all were seated--the lady in her rocker, the child on a little chair at her feet, and the negro girl on the floor in the corner of the chimney--Aunt Sukey would open the book, and begin where she left off the night before, and go on with the fortunes of "Evelina," "Camilla," "Clarissa Harlowe," or "Amanda Fitzallen," as the case might be; novels, which, however excellent in themselves, would scarcely be read in these days, though in those they were "devoured," so much so that if one of them appeared in any house, it was sure to go the round of the whole county, and be read to rags before it got home again, if it ever did. In this respect the neighborhood was a free, unorganized, irresponsible circulating library. Aunt Sukey bought some books, lent some, and borrowed some, but never kept any. So evening after evening she would read to her attentive hearers, while little Rosemary's large, blue eyes grew larger and larger with wonder and interest, and Henny's attention relaxed, and her head drooped lower and lower, as she nodded over the fire, until there seemed some danger of her falling into it. In this manner Miss Sukey was training, all unconsciously, the mind of the most romantic little fairy that ever lived to make a romance of her own. When the dip candle had burned nearly down to the socket Aunt Sukey knew by that sign that it was about nine o'clock. They had no other timepiece, so they went by the candle, which always burned just so long. Then Aunt Sukey would only finish her chapter before closing her book. Then Henny would wake up, light a fresh candle, and stand waiting orders. She need never have waited, for she knew exactly what the order would be. It was always the same formula. "Henny, go to the storehouse, and draw a jug of fresh cider, and cork it tight. Then take the bread tray, and get a quart of flour, and a quarter of a pound of lard, and a teaspoonful of salt, and bring all in here. And don't forget the rolling board and pin, nor the hoe blade." These would all be brought, and then Henny, having carefully washed her hands, and set the clean hoe blade to heat before the fire, would stand up to the table upon which she had placed her kneading tray, and there she would knead and afterward roll out her hoe cake, and spread it on the heated hoe to bake before the fire. She would, in fact, bake three in succession, turning them carefully, and finally placing them near the fire as they were taken off the hoe, to be kept hot until all was ready. Lastly, she would carry away all the utensils used, bring the little table to the front of the fire, and place cider, glasses, hoe cakes and china plates from the corner cupboard upon it. And the aunt and niece would sit down and "take a snack," as they called it--make a very hearty supper of very substantial food, as we should certainly say. What powers of digestion they must have had!