CHAPTER III
MARY FRANCES' MOTHER
MARY FRANCES pushed open the door of her mother's room very softly.
"What has my little girl there?" asked her mother.
"Oh, are you awake, Mother? It's a s'prise for you," and she carried the tray over to the bed.
Her mother carefully lifted the lid of the dish.
"Milk Toast! the only thing I could eat! why—who made it?"
"If it hadn't been for Toaster, it couldn't have been made," said Mary Frances.
Her mother looked at the little girl in surprise.
"I mean," she added, "that Toaster really did it—he showed me how——"
"Oh!" laughed her mother, as she lifted a slice of toast out on a saucer. "Well, dear, anyway I want you to have some toast with Mother"—and she handed the saucer to Mary Frances, who said she would much rather watch her mother eat it than to have some herself; but, after her first taste, she found how hungry she was.
"It's the best toast I ever ate," said her mother, "and Mary Frances, dear, I feel much better already."
She would have said more had not Mary Frances' brother bounded up the stairs two steps at a time with,——
"What do you think! I met Father downtown, and he says Aunt Maria's coming over to keep house for us. In the daytime, she must be at home; but she'll come over to get breakfast for us, and we'll go there for our dinners—and Father says Mother is going to the seashore to have a 'perfect rest' until she's well. Anyhow, I'm glad we won't starve. I wish Sis knew how to cook!" and he teasingly pulled one of Mary Frances' curls.
"Hush, Brother!" said the mother, "you should have been here to see the lovely Milk Toast Sister just brought me. It was the best I ever ate—and she made it all herself."
"Almost!" said Mary Frances.
"Oh, yes," said her mother, "the dear little girlie wants Toaster to get part of the praise."
"Ha, ha!" laughed Brother, and Mary Frances, somehow, couldn't explain about the Kitchen Folks.
Instead, "When does Aunt Maria come?" she asked. "Does she come to-night?"
"She's coming right over," answered her brother.
"Oh, oh!" thought Mary Frances, "I must warn the Kitchen People."
"Brother," she began, nervously, "you stay with Mother—I want to take these things down."
But Brother was already sitting quietly near Mother, and Mary Frances hurried softly downstairs.
"The poor dears! The poor dears!" she kept whispering all the way down.
