Part 15 (1/2)

”I'll get mine out to-day,” said Ethelwyn, ”and we'll see whether she can or not. When will she come home, mother?”

But mother was reading Aunty Stevens's letter, and did not hear.

”The Home is getting on beautifully,” she said presently. ”There are ten pale little children out there now. d.i.c.k is quite well and strong again, and helps with the work in every way. They are very anxious that we shall come on this summer.”

”O let's; for my birthday,” said Ethelwyn. ”Can't we, mother?”

”I will see. But Grandmother Van Stark would like one of you to come out and stay with her for a few days. Peter is coming in this afternoon and will take one of you out.”

”O me!” they cried at once.

”Let's pull straws,” suggested Ethelwyn; so she ran to find the broom.

It was she who drew the longest straw, and Beth drew a long breath, saying with cheerful philosophy, ”Well, I am thankful not to leave mother. I'd prob'ly cry in the night, and worry dear grandmother.” So every one was satisfied, and Ethelwyn, dimpling delightfully under her broad white pique hat, bade them good-bye, and took her place beside Peter in the roomy old phaeton.

”Are you any relation of St. Peter's?” she asked politely, after they were well on the way.

”n.o.body ever thought so,” said Peter, looking down at her with a twinkle in his eye.

”Well, I didn't know,” she said. ”I thought I'd like to ask you some questions about him if you were. We have had a good deal about him at Sunday-school lately. I'm studying my lessons nowadays for a prize; they are going to give a sacrilegious picture to the child that knows her verses the best by Easter, and I think maybe I'll get it, for I'm only about next to the worst now.”

”How many are there of you?”

”O, a lot; but if I do get it, I shall ask for a goat and cart instead.

We have plenty of pictures at home, but we are much in need of a goat and cart.”

Peter had a peculiar habit, Ethelwyn afterwards told her grandmother, of shaking after she had talked to him awhile, and gurgling down in his throat. She felt sorry for him. ”He was prob'ly not feeling well; maybe what Aunt Mandy calls chilling,” she said.

She found grandmother making pumpkin pies, for the minister and his wife were coming to dinner the next day. Grandmother was famous for making pumpkin pies, and never allowed any one else to make them.

”It's my grandmother's recipe,” she said, and Ethelwyn nearly fell off her chair trying to imagine grandmother's grandmother.

”I shouldn't suppose they would have been discovered then,” she said, after a struggle. ”Pumpkin pies don't go out of style like clothes, do they, grandmother?”

”Mine never have,” said grandmother proudly. ”I suppose Mandy never makes pumpkin pies.”

”Yes she does, but they don't grow in yellow watermelons; they live in tin cans.”

”Pooh!” said grandmother, ”they can't hold a candle to these.”

”No, but why would they want to?”

”Hand me that j.a.panned box with the spices, please, dear. Now you'll see the advantage of doing this sort of thing yourself; here are mustard and pepper boxes in this other j.a.panned box, but I know just where they always stand, so I could get up in the night and make no mistake.”

Just then grandmother was called away from the kitchen.

”Don't meddle and get into mischief, will you, deary?” she said. And Ethelwyn promised.

She intended to keep her word, but while she was smelling the spices, it struck her that it would be a good joke to season the pies from the other box. ”Like an April fool,” she thought; so she took a spoon and measured in a liberal supply of mustard and red pepper; then she went out into the yard.