“Oh, don’t be such a croaker, Kent. It can’t rain. The sky was as clear as a bell when we left home,” said Mrs. Brown, as eager as any of the young people to prolong the good times. “All right, mother, just as you think best, but I am going to get the horses hitched up in case you change your mind.” Change her mind she did in a very few minutes, as large drops of rain began to fall. The crowd came pell-mell and scrambled into the wagon. Mrs. Brown noticed in the confusion that she had lost her cavalier and that Professor Green had attached himself to Molly. She was pleased to see it, as she had felt sorry for the young man. He was evidently so miserable, and yet at the same time so determined to make himself agreeable to her that he had been really very charming. She loved to talk about books, and, as she said, seldom had the chance, for the people who knew about books and cared for them never seemed to realize that a busy mother and housekeeper could have similar tastes. “I get so tired of swapping recipes for pickles and talking about how to raise children. Aunt Mary makes the pickle and my children are all raised,” she had confided to Edwin Green. “We had a very interesting guest on one occasion, a woman who had done a great many delightful things and knew many delightful literary people, and I hoped to have a real good talk with her about books; but she seemed to feel she must stick to the obvious when she conversed with me. I often laugh when I think of Aunt Mary’s retort courteous to this same lady. She was constantly asking me how we made this and what we did to have that so much better than other people, and I would always refer her to Aunt Mary. “Once it was bread that was under discussion. You know how difficult it is to get a recipe from a darkey, as they never really know how they do the things they do best. Aunt Mary told her to the best of her ability what she did, but the woman was not satisfied. ‘Now, tell me exactly how many cups of flour you use.’ ‘Why, bless you, we done stop dolin’ out flour with a cup long ago an’ uses a ole broken pitcher.’ Another time it was coffee. ‘Now, you have told me about the freshly roasted and ground coffee, please tell me how much water.’ Aunt Mary gave a scornful sniff. ‘You mus’ think we are stingy folks ef you think we measure water!’ At another time she said, ‘Aunt Mary, you must have told me wrong, because I did exactly what you said and my popovers were complete failures.’ ‘Laws a mussy, I did fergit to tell you one thing, an’ that is that you mus’ stir in some gumption wif ev’y aig.’” “De rain kep’ a-drappin’ in draps so mighty heavy; De ribber kep’ a-risin’ an’ bus’ed froo de levvy, Ring, ring de banjo, how I lub dat good ole song, Come, come, my true love, oh, whar you been so long?”