"Keep yoah mouf shet much as you can when Mammy comes home to-night," he
cautioned; "for I sut'n'ly don't want to ketch a lickin' on my buthday.
It's mighty lucky the pan didn't get a hole knocked in her."
Mammy came home just before dark. The children were on the fence waiting
for her. John Jay felt sure that if Miss Hallie knew that it was his
birthday she would send him something. He wondered if Mammy had told
her. The basket on the old woman's head was always interesting to these
children, for it never came back from Rosehaven empty. The cook always
saved the scraps for Sheba's hungry little charges. This evening John
Jay kept his eyes fixed on it expectantly, as he followed it up the
walk. He had thrown one foot up behind him, and rested the toes of it in
his clasped hands as he hopped along on the other. Maybe there might be
a birthday cake in that basket, with little candles on it. He didn't
know, of course,--but--_maybe_.
They all crowded around, as Sheba put the basket on the table and took
out some scraps of boiled ham, a handful of cookies, and half of an
apple pie.
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