CHAPTER XII
THE TRAMP
MARY FRANCES peeped out of the open window. A tramp!
"Oh, dear,—shall I open the door?" thought the frightened little girl.
"Please, Miss,"—the oldest, hungriest-looking tramp she ever saw looked down at her, taking off his worn out cap. "Please, Miss—a cup o' tea—anything? I am that tired and faint."
He caught hold the railing.
"Tea!—my next lesson!" thought Mary Frances.
"That's easy and quick! and Tea Kettle is just beginning to boil. How awfully cold and hungry the poor man looks!"
"Wait a minute," she called.
"I almost know how to make tea,—but I'd better look at the recipe. Where'd I put my book? Oh, here it is,—open to the place," she spoke softly.
Then she read the directions for making
No. 12.—Tea.
1. Half fill the teapot with boiling water. Let stand until thoroughly hot. Pour out.
2. Put into it 1 teaspoon tea for each cup needed.
3. Pour in freshly boiling water, allowing 1 cup to every teaspoon tea.
4. Let stand for 5 minutes in a very warm place, but do not let it boil. Stir, and serve.
If not used immediately, strain into another heated pot.
Very soon she had filled the largest cup she could find in the closet, and handed it to the tramp.
"That's the bonniest cup o' tea I've drank for mony a year, Miss," said he. "It tastes like the auld country, shure."
"Like the old country!" thought Mary Frances. "That's the funniest way for anything to taste I ever heard of. Maybe he's so hungry he's a little bit out of his head. Oh, I know what I'll do! I'll make an omelet for him! I don't believe he's eaten omelet since—maybe, since he was as little as I am—maybe a hundred years. He looks a hundred years old, I'm sure. I hope I have eggs to make one—oh, yes, I know there are enough. Where's the recipe? Oh, here it is!"
No. 13.—Omelet.
Two eggs to each person.
1. Separate yolks and whites, putting them into different bowls.
2. Add dash of salt to whites, and dash of salt and white pepper to yolks.
3. Add cold water to whites, allowing 1 teaspoon to each.
4. Add cold water to yolks, allowing 1 tablespoon to each.
5. Beat both very light.
6. Melt 1 tablespoon butter in a smooth frying pan.
7. Pour in yolks. Let cook a moment.
8. Spread whites over yolks, making a little hole in the center for steam to escape.
9. Cook slowly for 5 minutes, or until the puffed up whites look dry.
10. Fold one half over the other.
11. Turn out on a warm platter.
12. Trim with parsley and serve at once.
"That's not so easy," thought the little girl, "but I guess I can manage it—he'll not be very par-tic-u-lar."
But she had very little trouble; for she read what her mother had written; and followed each direction exactly, all the way through the recipe.
"Blessin's on ye, Miss," said the tramp, as Mary Frances carried the smoking dish out on the porch to him with a slice of bread and butter. "You've got a kind heart, you 'ave, to be shure. Ain't that—whatever it is—a beauty!"
"It is real pretty," said Mary Frances, feeling quite proud. "I just made it for you. I'm learning to cook. My mother's away—and I'm here all alone just now except for Jubey and the Kitchen F—— (she caught herself just in time). Jubey is the kitten, you know. My lessons just came to Omelet, and—why, what's the matter with it?" she cried, dismayed. "It's all fallen flat! I wonder if I got it done. It gets flatter and flatter."
The tears sprang to her eyes. "I'm so sorry," she said.
"Oh, never mind, Miss," said the tramp; "I ain't been chooser for mony a day—and this 'ere homelet, or whatever it is, will be all right, all right,"—and he hungrily began to eat.
"It seems to be made out o' nothin'—and yet it is powerful good," said he between bites, as it fast disappeared, much to Mary Frances' delight.
"It's made out of beaten eggs," said she. "First, you take the eggs and break the shells, and put the yolks in one bowl and the——"
"Why, Miss, I know what made it flounder."
"Flounder? Flounder? 'Flat as a flounder,'" thought Mary Frances—"he means flatten."
"What?" she asked eagerly.
"Why, the breeze! The cool air plays the——"
"Mary Frances!"
"Mary Frances!"
"Mary Frances!"
Her father came into the kitchen.
"Who's there? Why, my dear little girl, what are you doing?"
"I'm—I've got company," Mary Frances stammered, not liking to say tramp. "That is—I—oh, Father, this gentleman was so hungry—and I——"
"Go into the house—and I shall see you."
"Be gone!" thundered her father to the tramp, pointing to the gate.
"Begging pardon, sir," said the tramp, touching his cap, "but may I say one word?"
"Make it short."
"I'd do anything for the young lady—not let a 'air o' 'er 'ead be 'urt. Please don't be too 'ard on 'er."
"You may go," said Mary Frances' father. "Are you hungry yet?"
"Oh, no, sir,—thank you, sir," said the tramp. "Thanks to 'er."
"Bless 'er little 'eart," her father heard him murmuring, as he went out the gate.
"Bless her dear, loving little heart!" echoed her father.
"The poor dear 'lamb' should not have been left alone! I thought Billy was here. But she must have her lesson!"
Going into the kitchen, he took Mary Frances on his knee.
"Dear," he began gravely, "suppose the old tramp had not had kind thoughts. Suppose, when my little girl opened the door, he had hurt her, and had taken mother's nice things, or had stolen our dear little daughter——"
"But, Father," said Mary Frances, "he was a lovely gentleman! I feel quite sure he was going to tell me a beautiful story about when he was little—maybe a hundred years ago——"
"Mary Frances, listen, child! Never, when you are alone, unlock the door to any man or woman you do not know. Understand?"
"Yes, Father," said Mary Frances; "I didn't mean to be bad."
"No, dear; but it would be very naughty indeed for you to do so again. Do you promise?"
"Yes, Father, said Mary Frances, hiding her face" on his shoulder. "I'll never, never do it again, dear Father."
* * * * * * *
"Humph!" grumbled Aunty Rolling Pin, after they had gone into the library, "I'd have warned her—only I was afraid the tramp gentleman might hear!"
"So would we all of us," cried the rest of the Kitchen People.
