One beautiful May morning, not long after I first met Clara, I was sent to Dr. Forest’s with a basket of eggs. As I opened the little gate leading through the shrubbery and little lawn to the front door, I perceived Clara standing on the wide upper step, with a watering-pot in her hand. She was dressed in white, as usual, and was sprinkling some flowers that grew in a large vase that stood on a pedestal by the steps. She greeted me pleasantly, and led me into the kitchen, where Dinah, the fat black servant, relieved my basket of its contents. Mrs. Forest, a tall, sweet-looking, pale lady, in a white apron, was engaged in making a vast quantity of little cakes, which Clara told me were macaroons for her party—a great event which was to take place that afternoon. I had heard of it, but did not expect an invitation, because I lived quite out of the village, and knew Clara but very slightly. Seeing all these delightful preparations, caused me to break the tenth commandment in my heart, but I was glad that Clara was so happy; and I lingered in that pleasant kitchen as long as I could, consistently with any degree of propriety. The twins, now some five years old, were the most prominent object in the Forest household, if not in the whole village. At that moment Dinah was picking over raisins, and they kept near her, devouring all she would give them, and when their importunities failed they watched their chances, and every now and then succeeded in grabbing a handful, when they would disappear, and remain very quiet for a few minutes. Sometimes Dinah would be quick enough to seize the little depredatory hand and rob it of its booty. When she failed, she “clar’d to God” there wouldn’t be a raisin left for Miss Clara’s party cake. The doctor’s family were from the South, where Dinah had formerly been a slave, though her condition was little better than slavery after the advent of those imps of twins. The good-natured old servant had loved the other children very sincerely, and she tried hard to take these also into her capacious heart, but she never fully succeeded. There was a feud between her and them, born of their persistent delight in tormenting her. “Hatching mischief,” she said, was their sole occupation during their waking hours, and their tricks were told by Dinah to other servants until the whole village laughed over them. After amusing the twins awhile I rose to go, following Clara back through the dining-room to the front door. In the hall she showed me a long table filled with toy china sets for the amusement, she said, of the “little girls,” Dr. Buzby cards and other games for the older. I could not repress exclamations of delight at the prospect of so much bliss; but when I informed her that I had never been invited to a party in my life, I had not the remotest intention of “fishing” for an invitation to hers.