The fire was near out. The room was chilled. On the floor at her feet there was flour and some broken eggs. "Mama? Mama, I have supper for you." For a moment there was no recognition in her eyes. The front of her chemise and petticoat were stained. Her mobcap was off, and there was flour in her hair, which was in the most pitiable arrangement I have ever seen. "How can I make this cake when I have no frogs' legs?" she asked me. "Mama, you don't need frogs' legs." "What do you know about cooking? All the best cakes have frogs' legs." I gave her the food I'd brought. She ate. Tears kept coming out of my eyes while I watched her. "Mama, it rained like you said it would. We have terrible floods. I think you have the sight. You can tell what's going to happen. And I need to know some things." She smiled. "Who is going to inherit what you have, Mama? Which of us girls? Will it be me? Or Anne? Or Betsy?" She leaned closer to me. "The frogs' legs, if cut up properly, make just the right spice for a cake," she said.
