Susy opened the cake-chest, and found nothing in it but a few dry cookies:  the fruit-cake was all gone.  Who could have eaten it?  Not Flossy, for she had a singular dislike for raisins and currants, and never so much as tasted fruit-cake.  Not Prudy, for the poor little thing had grown so lame by this time, that she was unable to bear her weight on her feet, much less to walk into the nursery.  Dotty could not be the thief.  Her baby-conscience was rather tough and elastic, and I suppose she would have felt no more scruples about nibbling nice things, than an unprincipled little mouse.

But, then Dotty couldn’t reach the cake-chest; so she was certainly innocent.

Then Susy remembered in a moment that it was Annie:  Annie had run into the house morning and night, and had often said, “I’m right hungry.  I’m going to steal a piece of our cake!”

So it seemed that Annie had eaten it all.  Susy ran back to Prudy’s sitting-room, where her little guests were seated, and said, trying not to laugh,—­

“Please, ma’am, I just made some eel-jumbles and things, and a dog came in and stole them.”

“Very well, Betsey,” said Mrs. Piper, serenely; “make some more.”

“Yes, make some more,” echoed Mr. Piper; and added, “chain up that dog.”

“But real honest true,” said Susy, “the fruit-cake is all gone out of the chest.  You ate it up, you know, Annie; but it’s no matter:  we’ll cut up some cookies, or, may be, mother’ll let us have some oyster-crackers.”

“I ate up the cake!” cried Annie; “It’s no such a thing; I never touched it!” Her face flushed as she spoke.

“O, but you did,” persisted Susy; “I suppose you’ve forgotten!  You went to the cake-chest this morning, and last night, and yesterday noon, and ever so many more times.”

Annie was too angry to speak.

“But it’s just as well,” added Susy, politely; “you could have it as well as not, and perfectly welcome!”

“What are you talking about?” cried Annie, indignantly; for she thought she saw a look of surprise and contempt on Flossy’s face, and fancied that Flossy despised her because she had a weakness for fruit-cake.

“I wonder if you take me for a pig, Susy Parlin!  I heard what your mother said about that cake!  She said it was too dry for her company, but it was too rich for little girls, and we must only eat a teeny speck at a time.  I told my mamma, and she laughed, to think such mean dried-up cake was too rich for little girls!”

Susy felt her temper rising, but her desire to be polite did not desert her.

“It was rich, nice cake, Annie; but mother said the slices had been cut a great while, and it was drying up.  Let’s not talk any more about it.”

“O, but I shall talk more about it,” cried Annie, still more irritated; “you keep hinting that I tell wrong stories and steal cake; yes, you do! and then you ain’t willing to let me speak!”