The door was closed and locked to insure safety to the two cakes, in case any one of the five friends felt like venturing forth and taking a look at them. “Here’s the chest of clothes,” now called Martha, lifting the lid to display the strange-fashioned garments. “Try on the flowered silk—and the powdered wig,” cried Anne eagerly, as she lifted the articles from the folds of paper. While the girls dressed in the quaint garments, the two boys, George and Jack, arrayed themselves in clothes worn at the time of the Civil War. John and Jim assisted enthusiastically and the laughter sounding from the attic drew the attention of old mammy the nurse, as she was passing down the second-floor hallway. She smiled and looked up the stairway, wondering what the youngsters were doing to make such a noise. “Ah rickon Ah’ll jes’ creep up an’ see ef der all right,” murmured mammy, dropping her mending on a chair and going up. Outside the room door she spied the dish with the two small cakes in it. She picked this up with a surprised expression on her face, for she knew her daughter had baked delicious cakes for tea. “Ah wonner! Rickon Ah’ll tek dis right down in de kitchen an’ fin’ out ef them cakes is all safe an’ soun’ befoh Ah do anudder thing.” Old mammy followed her own suggestion, and the cook was shocked. “What! Dem fine cakes gone an’ nuttin for tea—an’ dat fine comp’ny heah, too!” “Now, Ah’m tellin’ yoh! Jes’ fix dem rapscalions fo’ onct! Tek dat ice cream yo fixed foh dinnah an’ serve it fer affernoon tea ’stead uv dose cakes. Tell Missus Parke why an’ den leave nuff ice cream fer de grown-ups fer dinner to-night!” advised old mammy. The cook pondered this suggestion, and as a smile gradually spread over her wide face, she clapped her hands on the table. “Jus’ what Ah’ll do. You jus’ wait an’ see!” “Now, don’ go an’ deprive dem chilluns uv nuff to eat—Ah means some goodies,” warned old mammy. “See heah, mammy! Dis end uv de wuk am mine—an’ yoh’s is takin’ care uv de baby. Dem little limbs ain’ goin’ t’ eat up all de fancy eatin’s Ah bake, an’ mek de missus b’live Ah forgot t’ prepare fer her comp’ny!” So old mammy ascended the kitchen stairs again, fearing she had made a great mistake by warning her daughter in time that the cakes were gone and there was nothing for tea! As she shook her gray head over the conflicts between the cook and the children, she reached the second floor where the mending had been left. A voice calling from the library changed her current of despondency, and she leaned over the balustrade to reply. “Ah hear’n dem chilluns up in de attick, Mis Parke. Shall Ah tell ’em yoh wants ’em?” “Oh, please, mammy! And see if they are all dressed and ready for tea. I wish to ring for the tray,” replied Mrs. Parke. Mammy climbed the stairs once more and opened the door of the room whence sounds of merriment came. She stood in the doorway, taking in at a glance the extraordinary scene that met her eyes.