Part 32 (1/2)
”Of course you may, if you 'll show me how. I never pulled candy in my life.”
”Your education has been appallingly insufficient, in spite of those two years in England. But I used to be pretty good at it, and we 'll take the prize if you follow directions. Please begin by taking off those rings!” commanded Peter.
s.h.i.+rley obediently slipped off several pretty rings. Then she tied on a small and frivolous ap.r.o.n, at which Peter frowned.
”Do you call that absurdity of lace and ribbons an ap.r.o.n?” he demanded.
”What do you suppose will happen to it if you drop a hunk of candy in the sticky stage on it? Here, I 'll get you one of grandma's--they 're worth something.” s.h.i.+rley presently found herself invested in a bountifully made ap.r.o.n of checked white material, with a bib and strings, which nearly covered her from sight. ”Now you're safe--and so is the candy. The minute it's fairly cool, we 'll seize a generous portion and get away to some cool spot with it.”
It was some time before this stage in the operations was reached, and meanwhile Peter found himself obliged to share his partner with Ross and Rufus, who had no idea of allowing monopolies, with no other girls present but Nancy.
The elder people, however, proved themselves nearly as good company as the younger ones, for everybody seemed to have adopted the spirit of the season and to be ready for as much fun-making as possible. And to the great satisfaction of both Peter and s.h.i.+rley, not the least care-free of the company seemed Mr. Joseph Bell himself.
To Peter, especially, watching his father with an eye which took note, as the others could not, the very evident relaxation and refreshment of the occasion were a source of deep satisfaction. For once the son felt that he could himself relax and dare to get out of the hour all the joy there was in it. Happiness of this sort could not hurt, he was sure. It could only help.
”Our panful is cool enough!” declared Peter, flouris.h.i.+ng the blue-and-white-checked gingham ap.r.o.n which veiled his long legs, as he returned from the porch, where the candy had been cooling. ”Now, partner, hands b.u.t.tered, courage good? Stand ready to take hold when I say the word, I 'll work the lump into malleable condition. Open the door into the wood-shed, please. We 'll do our pulling there, if it's not too cool for you; then we 'll not get stuck.”
”_Ooh-h-h!_” s.h.i.+rley gave a little shriek as Peter presently, with a deft pull of his big lump into a long, smooth skein, handed her one end with the injunction to draw it out quickly and swing it back to him.
”But it's hot!”
”Of course it is, Miss Tender-Fingers! If we let it get comfortably cool we could n't pull it at all. Keep hold--keep it moving. Don 't let it stay in your fingers long enough to stick.
Pull--swing--pull--swing! Hold on! You're getting stuck! Wait a minute!”
”I can't do anything but wait!” gasped s.h.i.+rley, holding up ten fingers hopelessly embedded in a ma.s.s of uncomfortably warm material.
”What! Can this be the expert stenographer, all balled up in a couple of quarts of mola.s.ses? Hold still! Don't try to work out. I 'll pull you loose. Don't let the others see. Keep away from that kitchen door!”
But Rufus, pulling smoothly away from Jane, with the art acquired by much practice in past years, spied out the tangled ones. His shout of laughter brought all the others toward the wood-shed door.
s.h.i.+rley and Peter were obliged to return to the kitchen to obtain b.u.t.ter for the stuck-up fingers. They fell into a state of great merriment over the situation, in which everybody else joined appreciatively, and the old kitchen rafters rang with the laughter.
”Where would the stage ap.r.o.n be now? This is no gallery play!” jeered Peter, rescuing one long string of brownish-yellow sweetness from the front of s.h.i.+rley's big white ap.r.o.n. ”Want a taste? Shut your eyes and open your mouth!”
”No, thank you. Eat it yourself.”
”I will,” and Peter tipped back his head.
At this interesting moment the door between dining-room and kitchen swung open. A figure appeared upon the threshold--a figure clad in silk and furs, topped by a Parisian bonnet. Over its shoulder showed the heads of two others--one wearing a wonderful hat covered with fine black ostrich-plumes, the other its own thin thatch of short, iron-gray hair.
”We have found you at last!” said the voice of Mrs. Harrison Townsend.
Behind her, Olive burst into a musical peal of laughter.
”Look at s.h.i.+rley, mother! Don't you think it's about time we came home to prevent her quite returning to childhood?”
Then Mr. Harrison Townsend, from the background:--”This is rather stealing a march on you, good friends. But we found our own house dark--and this is Christmas eve!”
CHAPTER VIII