“Yes, indeed, it was awful,” continued Mrs. Piper; “for she was always going to masses and mass-meetings; and there couldn’t anybody die but they must be ‘waked,’ you know.”

“Why, I didn’t know they could be waked up when they was dead,” said Prudy, opening her eyes.

“O, but they only make believe you can wake ’em,” said Mrs. Piper; “of course it isn’t true!  For my part, I don’t believe a word an Irish girl says, any way.”

“Hush, my child,” she continued, turning to Dotty, who was now sharpening the silver knife on the edges of the iron grate.  “Betsey, why in the world don’t you see to that baby?  I believe you are losing your mind!”

“That makes me think,” said Prudy, suddenly breaking in with a new idea; “what do you s’pose the reason is folks can’t be waked up?  What makes ’em stay in heaven all the days, and nights, and years, and never come down here to see anybody, not a minute?”

“What an idea!” said Annie.  “I’m sure I don’t know.”

“Well, I’ve been a thinkin’,” said Prudy, answering her own question, “that when God has sended ’em up to the sky, they like to stay up there the best.  It’s a nicer place, a great deal nicer place, up to God’s house.”

“O, yes, of course,” replied Annie, “but our play—­”

“I’ve been a thinkin’,” continued Prudy, “that when I go up to God’s house, I shan’t wear the splint.  I can run all over the house, and he’ll be willing I should go up stairs, and down cellar, you know.”

Prudy sighed.  Sometimes she almost longed for “God’s house.”

“Well, let’s go on with our play,” said Annie, impatiently.  “It’s most supper-time, Mrs. Shotwell.  Come in, Betsey.”

“Ma’am?” said Betsey, appearing at the door, and turning up one ear, very much as if it were a dipper, in which she expected to catch the words which dropped from the lips of her mistress.  “Betsey, have you attended to your sister—­to my little child, I mean?  Then go out and make some sassafras cakes, and some eel-pie, and some squirrel-soup; and set the table in five minutes:  do you hear?”

“Ma’am?” said the deaf servant; “what did you say about ginger-bread?”

Susy did not like her part of the game; but she played it as well as she could, and let Annie manage everything, because that was what pleased Annie.

“O, how stupid Betsey is!” said Mr. Piper, coming to the aid of his wife.  “Mrs. Piper says eel-jumbles, and sassafras-pie, and pound-cake; all made in five minutes!”

Here everybody laughed, and Prudy, suddenly remembering her part, sighed, and said,—­

“O, my darlin’ husband used to like jumble-pie!  I’ve forgot to cry for ever so long!”

Susy began to set the table, and went into the nursery for some cake and cookies, which were kept in an old tin chest, on purpose for this play of housekeeping, which had now been carried on regularly every Wednesday and Saturday afternoon, for some time.