“Dat light-bread ought to be sot ter raisin’,” Aunt Cindy solilo-
quized when left alone. She spread out a fat hand on each knee, and
helped herself up from the meat-block. Then she mounted the bench
that served as her observatory, and began searching the log sleeper,
rummaging among the various paper parcels. “ Wonder what’s gone
wid dem twin brudders,” she said (Aunt Cindy was looking for a small
package of Twin Brothers yeast cakes, which some Yankee had intro-
duced in the neighborhood). “ Dat dar Tony’s gone an’ toted off dem
dar twin brudders, I’ll be boun’. — To-nee ! To-nee I ” she called, at
the height of her muffled voice. “ I see yer sneakin’ ’hin’ dat dar
chicken-coop. Yere’d better come yere, ’fo’ I comes dar an’ fotches
yer wid a peach-tree limb. Hurry ’long outen dat dar snail’s pace.”
Tony appeared, looking like a tattered scarecrow with a live head.
137
138
AUNT CINDY'S DINNER.
“ Whar’s dem dar twin brudders ? I wants ter put one uv um ter
soak. What yer gone an’ done wid dem dar twin brudders ? ” persisted
Aunt Cindy.
“I hain’t done nuffin ’t all wid dem dar twin brudders, — nebber
tetched um,” Tony declared, half frightened, half sullen.
“ Hush you’ mouf, yer story-teller ! I’ll be boun’ yer’s gone an’
feeded all dem twin brudders to de chickens. Yer’s too lazy ter mix
a little cawn-meal fer um.”
“ Nebber feeded dem dar twin brudders to de chickens, no more’n
nuffin,” Tony insisted.
“ How yer reckons I’se gwine ter git dinner fer dem fou’ puzzidin’
elduz ef I hain’t got no twin brudders to make de light-bread ? ”
“ I dun know.”
“ Ob cou’se yer dun know ; yer dun know nuffin. Come yere while
I boxes you’ jaw. I boxes yer kase I lubbed you’ gran’mudder. Me
an’ her uster play togedder when we-all wus bofe gals togedder.”
Aunt Cindy was heaving and balancing herself, preparatory to a
descent from the bench on which she was mounted. Down she
stepped at length, her broad bare foot meeting the dirt floor with a
heavy thud, — or slap, rather.
“ Come ’long up yere,” continued Aunt Cindy. Tony was moving
towards her with a reluctant, bewildered air, his dead grandmother
and the twin brothers all in a jumble in his brain, when Aunt Cindy
suddenly exclaimed, “ Dar’s dem twin brudders now, on dat dar jam ! ”
Tony smiled from ear to ear, in his satisfaction at having escaped the
impending boxing. “ Hush you’ grinnin’ dar, yer imperance, an’ go
’long an’ fotch me some hick’ry-bo’k to cook dat dinner. Wasn’t yer
’ware I’s got ter git dinner fer fou’ puzzidin’ elduz? ”
Tony gave a long whistle of astonishment, and went off toward
the woods.
Page 52
Presented as published in 1887. Historical recipes may not meet modern food-safety standards. Cook from the modern interpretation, not the original instructions.
AI-modernized reading of the original text
“Dat light-bread ought to be sot ter raisin’,” Aunt Cindy soliloquized when left alone. She spread out a fat hand on each knee, and helped herself up from the meat-block. Then she mounted the bench that served as her observatory, and began searching the log sleeper, rummaging among the various paper parcels. “ Wonder what’s gone wid dem twin brudders,” she said (Aunt Cindy was looking for a small package of Twin Brothers yeast cakes, which some Yankee had introduced in the neighborhood). “ Dat dar Tony’s gone an’ toted off dem dar twin brudders, I’ll be boun’. — To-nee ! To-nee I ” she called, at the height of her muffled voice. “ I see yer sneakin’ ’hin’ dat dar chicken-coop. Yere’d better come yere, ’fo’ I comes dar an’ fotches yer wid a peach-tree limb. Hurry ’long outen dat dar snail’s pace.” Tony appeared, looking like a tattered scarecrow with a live head.
AUNT CINDY'S DINNER.
“ Whar’s dem dar twin brudders ? I wants ter put one uv um ter soak. What yer gone an’ done wid dem dar twin brudders ? ” persisted Aunt Cindy.
“I hain’t done nuffin ’t all wid dem dar twin brudders, — nebber tetched um,” Tony declared, half frightened, half sullen.
“ Hush you’ mouf, yer story-teller ! I’ll be boun’ yer’s gone an’ feeded all dem twin brudders to de chickens. Yer’s too lazy ter mix a little cawn-meal fer um.”
“ Nebber feeded dem dar twin brudders to de chickens, no more’n nuffin,” Tony insisted.
“ How yer reckons I’se gwine ter git dinner fer dem fou’ puzzidin’ elduz ef I hain’t got no twin brudders to make de light-bread ? ”
“ I dun know.”
“ Ob cou’se yer dun know ; yer dun know nuffin. Come yere while I boxes you’ jaw. I boxes yer kase I lubbed you’ gran’mudder. Me an’ her uster play togedder when we-all wus bofe gals togedder.”
Aunt Cindy was heaving and balancing herself, preparatory to a descent from the bench on which she was mounted. Down she stepped at length, her broad bare foot meeting the dirt floor with a heavy thud, — or slap, rather.
“ Come ’long up yere,” continued Aunt Cindy. Tony was moving towards her with a reluctant, bewildered air, his dead grandmother and the twin brothers all in a jumble in his brain, when Aunt Cindy suddenly exclaimed, “ Dar’s dem twin brudders now, on dat dar jam ! ” Tony smiled from ear to ear, in his satisfaction at having escaped the impending boxing. “ Hush you’ grinnin’ dar, yer imperance, an’ go ’long an’ fotch me some hick’ry-bo’k to cook dat dinner. Wasn’t yer ’ware I’s got ter git dinner fer fou’ puzzidin’ elduz? ”
Tony gave a long whistle of astonishment, and went off toward the woods.