The Daring Twins: A Story for Young Folk

“Now you-all stop dat a-foolin’ an’ eat yo’ brekfas’ like sens’ble chill’ns,” said Aunt Hyacinth, coming in with a plate of smoking cakes. “Ef yo’ don’, yo’ done be late fo’ school, shore ’nuff.”

A ripple of laughter went around the group of five young Darings as a scramble was made for the cakes.

“I don’t b’lieve I’ll go to school to-day, Auntie,” said Sue, a demure little miss at the lower end of the table.

“Yes yo’ will, honey,” retorted the black mammy, in a voice she meant to be severe. “Yo’ ’s goin’ to school, all of yo’, an’ I don’t ’tend yous’ll be late, nuther.”

“I’m not going, for one,” declared Don, his mouth too full to speak properly.

“Get some more cakes; will you, Aunt Hy?” requested Becky, in a plaintive tone. “They10 snapped those up so quick I couldn’t harpoon a single one.”

The faithful old servant pattered back to the kitchen, slid more cakes from the griddle to her plate, poured on fresh batter and came pattering back again.

“Yo’, now, Miss Sue; what’s dat I heah ’bout stayin’ home f’m school?” she demanded, a frown wrinkling her ebony brow.

“That’s it, Auntie; no school for me,” said Sue, grabbing a cake with her fork before Phœbe could reach the plate.

“But yo’ mus’, chile; yo’ ain’t sick. Yo’ mus’ go to school.”

“Yes yo’ will, Miss Sue! yo’ ’ll go ef I has to lead yo’ dere by de ear o’ you.”

Even Phil joined the laughter now, and he said in his grave yet pleasant way: