"Hurt me? Not a bit of it! I don't like them, that's all. Never mind; you can do it to-morrow." When "to-morrow" came Miss Mortimer had not forgotten. The big round dish was heaped with potatoes baked to a turn. "Thank you, I'll take the fried," said Carrie, as the dish was passed to her. "The f-fried?" stammered Miss Mortimer. "Yes; I prefer those." "But there _are_ no fried. I baked them." "Well, how funny!" laughed Carrie. "I thought we had it all fixed yesterday. I thought we were to have both fried and baked. Mother always did, you know. You see, we don't like them the same way. Never mind," she added with a beaming smile, quite misunderstanding the look on her cousin's face, "it does n't matter a bit and you must n't feel so bad. It 'll be all right to-morrow, I'm sure." "Yes, and I want buckwheat cakes, please," piped up Rob. "All right, you shall have them," agreed Cousin Helen with a smile. Tom laughed. "Maybe you don't quite know what you 're getting into, Cousin Helen," he suggested. "If you make buckwheat cakes for Rob--it means graham muffins for Rose." "And she shall have them; the very next morning, too." "Oh, no, that will never do. She demands them the same day." "What!" "Oh, I thought you didn't understand," chuckled Tom. "When you make one, you have to make both. Mother always did--she had to; 't was the only way she could suit both the twins, and I don't believe you 'll find any other way out of it. As for us--we don't mind; we eat them all!" "Oh!" said Cousin Helen faintly. "And another thing," resumed Tom, "we might as well settle the drink question right away--of course you 'll want to know. Father is the only one who drinks cereal coffee. We (Carrie and I) like the real thing, every time; and the twins have cocoa--weak, of course, so there 's not much to it." "And you must n't sweeten mine while you 're cooking it," interposed Rose decidedly. "Sure enough--lucky you thought of that," laughed Tom, "or else poor Cousin Helen would have had another mistake to fret over. You see," he explained pleasantly, "Rose insists on putting in _all_ the sugar herself, so hers has to be made unsweetened; but Rob is n't so particular and prefers his made in the regular way--sweetened while cooking, you know." "Oh, I make two kinds of cocoa, do I?" asked Cousin Helen. "Yes--er--that is, in two ways." "Hm-m; and coffee and the cereal drink, making four in all?" continued Cousin Helen, with ominous sweetness. Tom stirred uneasily and threw a sharp glance into his cousin's face. "Well--er--it does seem a good many; but--well, mother did, you know, and we might as well have what we want, as something different, I suppose," he finished, with vague uneasiness. "Oh, certainly, who would mind a small thing like that!" laughed Miss Mortimer, a queer little gleam in her eyes.