CHAPTER VI
JACKET-BOILED POTATOES
"GOOD-BYE, Billy! Take good care of Sister. Good-bye, little Housekeeper!" said Mother, leaning from the car window. The children waved "good-bye," and watched the train until it was a speck in the distance.
"I'm off to the mill-race, with the boys, Sister,—catch!" cried Billy, tossing Mary Frances the key.
"All right," she called, "be sure to come home to lunch—twelve o'clock."
Mary Frances suddenly felt very lonesome.
"But I'll go home to my Kitchen Folks—they'll be good company," she thought.
When she let herself into the house, how big and empty it seemed! She was almost afraid to go in, but she bravely locked the door behind her.
She thought she heard a noise. Surely the curtain moved! Her heart went pit-a-pat! The curtain moved again. Out sprang Jubey, and scampered off into the kitchen.
"Oh, you darling kitten!" she cried, running after her. "How you scared me, Jubey!"
Everything was as neat as a pin. All the Kitchen Folks were in their places, prim, and quiet, and scared, just as Aunt Maria had left them, but when they saw her they brightened up, and smiled a welcome.
"How do you do, Kitchen Folks?" she said.
"How do, little Miss?" merrily sang Tea Kettle.
"H-o-w d-o?" ticked Mantel Clock.
"What in the world shall I have for lunch?" mused the little girl. "That boy will be as hungry as two bears,—and I don't know many things to cook yet. Toast is all right for a sick person, but it isn't much for a hungry boy,—and I ought to make something new. Let me see what my little book says," and she fetched it out of its hiding place.
"Oh, I know! I'll make everything! I do hope I get through the book before Mother comes back! Let's see,—here's 'How to Cook Potatoes,' and 'Eggs'; here are 'Biscuits,' and even how to make 'Tarts' and 'Cakes,'—and Goody! Candy! Oh, how I'd love to make candy right away, but Mother said I must make the things in the order they come in the book. So to-day I make
No. 4.—Jacket-boiled Potatoes.
1. Scrub rather small potatoes well.
2. Pare a ring around each the long way; drop into cold water.
3. Drain; cover with boiling water; add 1 tablespoon salt.
4. Let boil about 35 minutes, or until a fork will easily pierce the largest.
5. Drain off all the water, and set pan at back of stove to dry off the potatoes.
6. Serve in their jackets.
"I wonder how many Billy will eat," she thought, as she brought the basket. "I guess about—about—I don't know. He has an e-nor-mous appetite. I guess I'll cook a hundred."
"He'll never eat a hundred!"
Mary Frances looked around. Boiler Pan was climbing down from the closet shelf.
"Hello! How do you know?" asked Mary Frances. "You never saw him eat."
"Hear that! Hear that!" cried Boiler Pan. "As though I hadn't cooked potatoes before you were born. Eat a hundred? Why, I can't hold a hundred—so there!"
"Ho, ho!" said Mary Frances, "that must be so. How many can you hold?"
"Oh, about thirty, I guess," swelling with pride.
"Well," said Mary Frances, "you've no notion how many that boy can eat, and there isn't much else for lunch. I guess I'll cook about twelve,"—and counting them out, she began to wash them.
"Be sure to get all the sand out of their eyes," laughed Boiler Pan. "But first, will you help me jump up on the stove, and fill me?—then I can boil while you're 'ringing' the potatoes."
This done, he was very quiet, while she finished the potatoes.
Just then the clock struck eleven.
"Why, I must hurry," exclaimed Mary Frances.
"I'm ready," bubbled Boiler Pan.
"Oh, yes, I'm coming," and she dropped the potatoes in one by one.
"Now, put on my hat," said Boiler Pan, and Mary Frances put on the lid.
"Are they all right?" asked the little girl.
"All right!" he answered in a muffled voice.
Mary Frances then went in the dining-room, and busied herself about setting the table.
Soon, she heard a "rumpus" in the kitchen. She ran out. Bubbles were sputtering over the sides of Boiler Pan, and the lid was dancing a jig.
"What shall I do? What shall I do?" cried Mary Frances, jumping up and down.
"This hat's crazy! Take it off, quick!" Boiler Pan besought her.
Without thinking, she seized the lid with her fingers, but dropped it with a cry of pain.
"I'm scalded, I'm scalded," she sobbed. "What will I do for it?" and she ran for some cold water.
"Don't do that, child," said Aunty Rolling Pin. "Butter it and then powder it with baking soda the way your mother does."
"I'm so sorry," said Boiler Pan, "but I really couldn't get my old hat off. I should have told you to take a holder."
"Never mind, it's better now. Those potatoes must be done. Yes," as she tried them with a fork, "even the biggest is done in the middle. I'm so glad, for I expect that boy any minute."
"So'm I," said Boiler Pan, "for I feel the effect of this stren-u-os-i-ty."
Mary Frances pretended not to notice this speech, but carefully drained the water from the potatoes, and shook Boiler Pan over the fire to dry them off.
"I—I—learned—that—that—wor—word—after year—years—of—stud—study," he said between the shakes, "and you—nev—never—notic—noticed——"
But Billy was knocking.
So Mary Frances, hastily putting Boiler Pan on the back of the stove, ran to let him in.
"Hello, Sister! Here we are! Lunch ready?"
"Yes, all ready. I'll put it on. You sit in Father's place, and we'll play we're grown up."
"Scrumptious!" exclaimed Billy, as Mary Frances set the smoking dish of potatoes on the table.
"What an excellent cook you must have, Madam," he said, after his first taste. "Such good potatoes!"
"I have ten," said Mary Frances.
"Ten! You are fortunate, indeed, Madam," said Billy, for all the world as though he were a grown-up young gentleman. "How quiet they keep."
"Yes," laughed Mary Frances, "but they're 'most always busy," and she held up her ten pink little fingers.
"Oh, Billy," she added earnestly, "I'm so glad you like them—the potatoes, I mean. There is only one left—won't you have that?"
"Oh, let's give that to Jubey—Jubey might be hurt if you didn't let her try them. I would,—if I were Jubey."
