“Now, Miss Jemimy, just as if I didn’t know how to knit mittens!”

“Wal, it seems you don’t,” said she, “though I don’ deny but you may know heow ter give ’em; an’ ez I alluz like ter du w’at good I kin, I’m gwine ter show ye.”

“Show away,” says I; “but I’ll be bound, I’ve knit and sold and eaten up more mittens than ever you put your hands in!”

“Du tell!  I’m glad to ha’ heern you’ve got sech a good digestion,” says she, hunting up a piece of paper to light her pipe.  “Wal, ez I wuz sayin’,” says she, “tew an’ one’s the best seam, handiest an’ ’lastickest; twenty stetches to a needle, cast up so loose thet the fust one’s ter one eend uv the needle an’ the last ter t’other eend,—­thet gives a good pull.”

“I guess your smoke will hurt Stephen’s head,” said I, thinking to change her ideas.

“Oh, don’t you bother abeout Stephen’s head; ef it can’t stan’ thet,’t a’n’t good fur much.  Wal, an’ then you set yer thumb an’ knit plain, ‘xcept a seam-stetch each side uv yer thumb; an’ you widden tew stetches, one each side,—­s’pose ye know heow ter widden? an’ narry?—­ev’ry third reound, tell yer ’ve got nineteen stetches acrost yer thumb; then ye knit, ‘ithout widdenin’, a matter uv seven or eight reounds more,——­you listenin’, Emerline?”

“Lor’, Miss Jemimy, don’t you know better than to ask questions when I’m counting?  Now I’ve got to go and begin all over again.”

“Highty-tighty, Miss!  You’re a weak sister, ef ye can’t ceount an’ chat, tew.  Wal, ter make a long matter short, then ye drop yer thumb onter some thread an’ cast up seven stetches an’ knit reound fur yer hand, an’ every other time you narry them seven stetches away ter one, fur the gore.”

“Dear me, Aunt Mimy! do be quiet a minute!  I believe mother’s a-calling.”

“I’ll see,” said Aunt Mimy,—­and she stepped to the door and listened.

“No,” says she, coming back on tiptoe,—­“an’ you didn’t think you heern any one neither.  It’s ruther small work fur ter be foolin’ an old woman.  Hows’ever, I don’ cherish grudges; so, ez I wuz gwine ter say, ye knit thirty-six reounds above wheer ye dropped yer thumb, an’ then ye toe off in ev’ry fifth stetch, an’ du it reg’Iar, Emerline; an’ then take up yer thumb on tew needles, an’ on t’other you pick up the stetches I told yer ter cast up, an’ knit twelve reounds, an’ thumb off ‘ith narryin’ ev’ry third”——­

“Well, Miss Jemimy, I guess I shall know how to knit mittens, now!”

“Ef ye don’t, ’t a’n’t my fault.  When you’ve fastened off the eends, you roll ’em up in a damp towel, an’ press ’em ‘ith a middlin’ warm iron on the wrong side.  There!”

After this, Miss Mimy smoked awhile in silence, satisfied and gratified.  At last she knocked the ashes out of her pipe.

“Wal,” says she, “I must be onter my feet.  I’d liked ter seen yer ma, but I won’t disturb her, an’ you can du ez well.  Yer ma promised me a mess o’ tea, an’ I guess I may ez well take it neow ez any day.”