“Never mind, Bluebell,” cooed Patty, sympathetically, smoothing her hostess's curly hair with a very doughnutty hand, and trying to wipe her flushed cheeks with an apron redolent of hot fat. “You can use the rest of the pie-crust for tarts, and my doughnuts are swelling up be-yoo-ti-ful-ly!”
Bell withdrew the towel from her merry, tearful eyes, and said with savage emphasis:
“If any of you dare tell this at the picnic to-morrow, or let Uncle Harry or the boys know about it, I'll--I don't know what I'll do,” finished she, weakly.
“That's a fearful threat,” laughed Jo,--“'The King of France and fifty thousand men plucked forth their swords! and put them up again.'”
And so this cloud passed over, and another and yet another with comforting gleams of sunshine between, till at length it was seven o'clock in the evening before the dishes were washed and the kitchen tidied; then six as tired young housewives stretched themselves before the parlor fire as a bright blaze often shines upon. Bell, pale and pretty, was curled upon the sofa, with her eyes closed. The other girls were lounging in different attitudes of dejection, all with from one to three burned fingers enveloped in cloths. The results of the day's labor were painfully meager,--a colander full of doughnuts, some currant buns, molasses ginger-bread, and a loaf of tolerably light fruit cake. Out in the kitchen closet lay a melancholy pile of failure,--Alice's pop-overs, which had refused to pop; Patty's tarts, rocky and tough; and a bride's cake that would have made any newly married couple feel as if they were at the funeral of their own stomachs. The girls had flown too high in their journey through the cook book. Bell and Jo could really make plain things very nicely, and were considered remarkable caterers by their admiring family of school-mates; but the dainties they had attempted were entirely beyond their powers; hence the pile of wasted goodies in the closet.
“Oh, dear,” sighed Lilia. “Nobody has spoken a word for an age, and I don't wonder, if everybody is as tired as I. Shall we ever be rested enough to go to-morrow?”
“I was thinking,” said Edith, dreamily, “that we have only seven more days to stay. If they were all to be as horrible as this, I shouldn't care very much; but we have had such fun, I dread to break up housekeeping. The chief trouble with to-day was that we did no planning yesterday. We never looked into the store-room nor bought anything in advance nor settled what we should cook.”