They left Miss Leontine at her own door, and went on towards the residence of Cousin Sarah Cray. "Here comes Miss Polly's bread-cart, on the way back from Mellons," said Cicely. "Grandpa, wouldn't it be a good idea to buy some little cakes?" The judge stopped the horse; Cicely beckoned to the old negro who was wheeling the covered hand-cart along the sandy road. "Uncle Dan, have you any cakes left?" Uncle Dan touched his hat, and opened the lid of the cart; there, reposing on snowy napkins, were biscuit and bread, and little cakes of inviting aspect. While Cicely made her selection, Eve bent down and took one of the circulars which were lying, neatly piled, in a corner. It announced, not in print, but in delicate hand-writing, that at the private bakery, number ten Queen Street, Gary Hundred, fresh bread, biscuits, and rolls could be obtained daily; muffins, crumpets, and plum-cake to order. The circular was signed "Mary Clementina Diana Wingfield." "They have names enough, those sisters," Eve commented. "Miss Leontine's is Clotilda Leontine Elizabeth; I saw it in her prayer-book." Cousin Sarah Cray's residence was a large white house, with verandas encircling it both up stairs and down; the palings of the fence were half gone, the whole place looked pillaged and open. The judge drove up to the door and helped Cicely to descend; and then Eve, who had little Jack, fast asleep, in her arms. Cicely motioned to Eve to go into the house; she herself followed her grandfather as he led the horse round to the stables. Eve went in, carrying Jack and the cakes. Cousin Sarah Cray, hurrying down the stairs to meet her, took the child affectionately. "Dear little fellow, he begins to look right rosy." She was delighted with the cakes. "They will help out the tea be-u-tifully; we've only got waffles." Instead of going to her room, Eve took a seat at the window; she was anxious about the judge. "Miss Polly's cakes are always so light," pursued Cousin Sarah Cray, looking at them; "she never makes a mistake, there's never the tinetiest streak of heaviness in _her_ little pounds! And her breads are elegant, too; when one sees her beautiful hands, one wonders how she can do all the kneading." "Does she do it herself?" "Every single bit; their old Susannah only heats the oven. It was a courageous idea, Miss Bruce, from the beginning; you know they are among our best people, and, after the war, they found themselves left with nothing in the world but their house. They could have kept school in it, of course, for they are accomplished beyond everything; Miss Leontine paints sweetly--she was educated in France. But there was no one to come to the school; the girls, of course, could not afford to go away." "You mean pupils?--to leave their homes and come here?" "No, I mean the girls, Polly and Leontine; they could not open a school anywhere else--in Charleston, for instance; they had not money enough."