A Yankee Girl at Antietam

								

him.
There on the lower shelf of the pantry, covered with a white cloth,
stood a platter heaped with small round cakes that Dulcie had baked that
morning. Roxy carefully lifted the cloth and gazed at them admiringly.
“And there’s citron and currants in every one,” she whispered to
herself, and carefully chose three of the cakes, and replaced the cloth.
“I’ll have to have something to carry things in,” she thought anxiously,
and her glance fell on Dulcie’s egg basket, where only three or four
eggs remained.
“I’ll take that, and the eggs too,” she decided, and in a moment the
three cakes rested beside the eggs, and Roxy’s eyes searched the pantry
shelves for something more.
The meat left from the midday meal would, she knew, be in the cool
cellar closet, and Roxy feared she could not reach the shelf on which it
was kept; but the bread jar was close at hand, and removing the cover
Roxy drew out an entire loaf of freshly baked bread.
“Oh, dear! Just bread and cake and eggs isn’t enough,” she thought. “I
must get him some meat,” and she left the closet and ran across the
kitchen to the door that opened on the cellar stairway.
A cool air came up from the dark cellar as Roxy groped her way down the
broad stone steps, and keeping close to the wall felt her way to the
deep closet where many household supplies were kept.
It was hard work for the little girl to pull open the heavy door, but at
last she succeeded, and stepped in. Dulcie always brought a lighted
candle to the cellar, but Roxy had no light, and could only grope about.
“I’ll take whatever I find,” she resolved, clutching at something
resting in a tin pan. “I’m sure this is the chicken Dulcie roasted this
morning to have sliced up cold for supper,” she thought delightedly,
thrusting it in with the bread and cakes. “That will be splendid; and
maybe it will be enough. I guess I won’t wait to get milk,” and Roxie
left the cellar cupboard, the door swinging to behind her with a sudden
bang that made the little girl jump with the fear that it might bring
someone hurrying down the cellar stairs.
But no other sound was heard in the house; and now Roxie could see a dim
square of light at the far end of the cellar, and remembered that there
was a cellar door leading into the yard.
“I’ll go out that way,” she decided, and made her careful way among
barrels and boxes to where another flight of broad stone steps led
directly up to the back yard, and in a moment she was again in the open
air.
The negro farm-hands were all in the fields attending to their work; the
young colored woman who helped Dulcie in the work of the house had, as
Roxy knew, gone for an afternoon’s visit to a neighboring farm; Dulcie
was taking her usual afternoon nap in her cabin, and Grandma Miller and
Mrs. Delfield were resting in their own rooms. Roxy felt sure that no
one would see her as she now ran across the yard and down the rough