“As to that, child,” said Aunt Polly, “I mus have it to cook with, that’s a pint settled; there aint no use ’sputin about it.  If he thinks I’m gwine to change my way of cookin in my old age, he’s mightily mistaken.  He need’nt think I’m gwine to make puddins out o’ one egg, and lighten my muffins with snow, like these ere Yankees, ’kase I aint gwine to do it for nobody.  I sot out to do my duty by you, and I’ll do it; but for all that, I aint bound to set to larnin new things this time o’ day.  I’ll cook Carolina fashion, or I wont cook at all.”

“Well, but what shall I do?” said Mrs. Moore; “you wouldn’t have me do a thing my husband disapproves of, would you?”

“No, that I wouldn’t, Miss Emmy,” said Aunt Polly.  “My old man’s dust and ashes long ago, but I always done what I could to please him.  Men’s mighty onreasonable, the best of ’em, but when a woman is married she ought to do all she can for the sake of peace.  I dont see what a man has got to do interferin with the cookin, no how; a woman oughter ’tend to these matters.  ’Pears to me, Mr. Moore, (captain, as you calls him,) is mighty fidjetty about bottles, all at once.  But if he cant bear the sight of a brandy bottle in the house, bring ’em down here to me; I’ll keep ’em out of his sight, I’ll be bound.  I’ll put ’em in the corner of my old chist yonder, and I’d like to see him thar, rummagin arter brandy bottles or any thing else.”

Mrs. Moore was very much relieved by this suggestion, and when her husband came in, she enlarged on the necessity of Polly’s having her own way about the cooking, and wound up by saying that Polly must take charge of all the bottles, and by this arrangement he would not be annoyed by the sight of them.

“But, my dear,” said he, “do you think it right to give such things in charge of a servant?”

“Why, Aunt Polly never drinks.”

“Yes, but Emmy, you don’t consider the temptation.”

“La, William, do hush; why if you talk about temptation, she’s had that all her life, and she could have drank herself to death long ago.  Just say yes, and be done with it, for it has worried me to death all day, and I want it settled, and off my mind.”

“Well, do as you like,” said Captain Moore, “but remember, it will be your fault if any thing happens.”

“Nothing is going to happen,” said Mrs. Moore, jumping up, and seizing the wine and brandy bottles by the necks, and descending to the lower regions with them.

“Here they are, Aunt Polly.  William consents to your having them; and mind you keep them out of sight.”

“Set ’em down in the cheer thar, I’ll take care of ’em, I jist wanted some brandy to put in these potato puddins.  I wonder what they’d taste like without it.”

But Mrs. Moore could not wait to talk about it, she was up stairs in another moment, holding her baby on Neptune’s back, and more at ease in her mind than she had been since the subject was started, twenty-four hours before.