Part 37 (1/2)
”Who can it be?” pondered the girl.
”You might guess all night and never get it right,” laughed Gail. ”You better give it up. Tomorrow is time enough for little girls to know.”
”For little girls to know what?” demanded Peace, as the noisy quartette burst breathlessly in from school.
”What we are to have for dinner tomorrow night,” answered Gail, glancing warningly at Faith.
”Tomorrow night? We have dinner at noon.”
”Tomorrow we don't. We'll have lunch at noon and dinner in the evening.”
”Bet there's comp'ny coming!” shouted the smaller girls.
”Who?” asked Hope, almost as much excited.
”The minister and his family, and Mrs. Grinnell.”
”What for?” questioned Cherry, for company was rare at the little brown house.
”Why, to eat up those chickens, of course,” answered Peace. ”Will there be enough to go around? Hadn't I better hack the head off from another?”
”Don't you fret! Mike weighed the hens after he killed them, and one is a seven-pounder, and the other weighs eight. That surely ought to be enough to satisfy your appet.i.tes.”
”Well, I bony a drumstick! There'll be four this time.”
”Yes, but suppose we have to wait,” suggested Cherry. ”The others may eat them all up.”
”Oh, Gail, must we wait?” cried Peace in alarm, suddenly remembering how tiny the dining-room was.
”No, dear, there will be room for all,” answered the mother-sister. ”But I shall expect all of you to be little ladies and not quarrel over drumsticks or wishbones. One's guests must always be served first, you know.”
”Isn't it too bad,” sighed the child pensively, ”that we can't be our own guests sometimes and have just the piece we want?”
”You ought to be thankful to have any part of it,” Faith spoke up. ”If company wasn't coming, we shouldn't have killed the hens.”
”I _am_ as thankful as I can be,” answered Peace, brightening visibly.
”Cherry, come help me scour the silver. I forgot it last night, and if comp'ny is coming, we want everything fine. Besides, the time goes faster when you're busy, and already I can hardly wait for tomorrow night to come. Seems 's if it never would get here with those roasted hens.”
But in due time the eventful night arrived, and with it the select company who were to join in the little celebration. With eager, s.h.i.+ning eyes, Peace ushered in the guests, who chanced to come all together, and as she relieved them of their wraps and led them into the shabby parlor, she chattered excitedly.
”You don't like drumsticks the best, do you, Mr. Strong? And neither does Mrs. Grinnell. I heard her say so lots of times. She likes the wings. I want something that ain't so skinny. That's why I always choose drumsticks. There are four in this affair--four drumsticks, I mean. You didn't think I meant comp'ny, did you? Each hen had two legs, you know; but there are nine people to eat, counting Glen, though, of course, he is too little for such things yet; and the drumsticks won't anywhere near go around, s'posing every one of you should want one. When we have only one hen, Cherry and Allee and me always fight over who is to have the drumsticks. Last time Gail settled it by eating one herself, and giving the other to Hope. That won't happen today, though, 'cause there is company.”
”Aren't you giving away family secrets?” interrupted Mrs. Grinnell, trying to look severe.
”Oh, no! You already know about it, and the minister ain't s'prised at anything. I just thought I'd speak about it, 'cause I've bonied one drumstick myself, if someone else doesn't eat them all up first. And say, folks, if any of you get a wishbone in your meat, will you save it for me? Cherry's making a c'lection and has six already. I haven't but the one I asked Mr. Hartman for, and they make the cutest penwipers for Christmas. Supper--dinner is 'most ready, I guess. Gail made _lots_ of stuffing--dressing, I mean. And Faith's cake is just fine, and the custard pies are the beautifulest she ever made. They are all extra, 'cause you are here. We don't often get such nice things to eat, but this is a special 'casion. When supper is over the rest of the girls will help me do the talking, but now they are every one busy except Allee and me, and Allee's getting dressed. There's someone at the door.
I hope it ain't more comp'ny. S'posing it is, wouldn't that be the worst luck,--the very night we have roast chicken!”
Before Peace could reach the door to see who was there, however, Mr.
Strong swung it wide open, and reaching out into the dusk, drew in a sweet-faced, motherly, old lady with silvery hair, and the familiar tall, gray man of the broker's office, exclaiming in his hearty, boyish fas.h.i.+on, ”Mrs. Campbell, Doctor, I am so glad you have come! I was beginning to fear you had missed the place.”