Carrie did leave her rocking-chair and tried fanning her mother, for she saw she had something to say.

“What is it?  What have you seen?  Have you got something slam-bang for me?  Is the Governor coming here?  Couldn’t you raise any dinner?”

Carrie’s questions came out so fast that her mother never could have answered them, even with the breath of a Corliss engine; much less, panting as she was now.

“Yes, I saw him; I managed to see him,” she gasped out.  “The guns were firing, the cannon were booming, the bells were ringing——­”

“Oh!  I dare say!  I dare say!” cried Carrie, eager to hear more.  “I could hear them up here.  That was not worth going to town for.  What did the Governor say?”

“My dear! my dear!” panted Mrs. Fraser, “he said you could have your three wishes.”

“What!  The chariot and four (that means horses), the maid, and the boot-hooks,—­no, the maid was scratched out,—­not the chocolates?” asked Carrie, in wonder.

“No, no!  I don’t know what you mean!” said Mrs. Fraser; “but you can have three wishes; and I have hurried home, for they are to be told as the clock strikes twelve,—­one to-day, one to-morrow, one the next day,—­the moment the clock strikes, and I am only just in time.  You are to wish, and you will have just what you wish.”

Both Carrie and her mother looked at the clock.  The hand was just approaching twelve.  Carrie could hear a little “click” that always came from inside the clock before it struck.

“I have written out my wishes,” she hurried to say; “but I don’t want the chariot yet, because everybody is coming back from town.  And I don’t want any more hats and boots just now.  But, oh!  I do want some chocolate creams, and I wish this room was ‘chock full of them.’”

As she spoke the clock struck; and when it stopped she could speak no more, for the room was as full of chocolate creams as it could hold.  They came rattling down upon her head, filling in all the crannies of the room.  They crowded into her half-open mouth; they filled her clutching hands.  Luckily, Mrs. Fraser was sitting near the open window, and the chocolate creams pushed her forward upon the sill.  There were two windows looking upon the piazza.  One was made of glass doors that were shut; the other, fortunately, was quite low; and Mrs. Fraser seated herself on the edge, and succeeded in passing her feet over to the other side, a torrent of chocolate creams following her as she came.  She then turned to see if she could help Carrie.  Carrie was trying to eat her way toward the window, and stretched out her arms to her mother, who seized her, and with all her strength pulled her through the window.

“They are bully!” exclaimed Carrie, as soon as she was free.  “They are the freshest I ever ate.  Golumptious!”

“Oh, Carrie,” said her mother, mournfully, “how can you use such expressions now, when you have wasted your opportunity in such an extravagant wish?”