CHAPTER XX
MARY FRANCES GIVES A COOKING LESSON
"COME!" said Mary Frances. "This is enough nonsense for one day.
"Now, Kitchen People, I promised to give a friend of mine a cooking lesson. If I bring her now, can you help us,—as you generally do me?"
"No, child," said Aunty Rolling Pin, smiling; "but perhaps you have learned by this time pretty nearly well enough to do an easy lesson without our help. We can't talk before other people, you know. Perhaps the little girl's own Kitchen People will help her some time."
"Well, it's a very easy lesson, I think.—'Apple Snow,' she added. And 'a promise 's a promise!'"
"Yes," interrupted Sauce Pan, "you can get along nicely with that recipe."
"Perhaps I can," said Mary Frances, happily. "I'll go over for Eleanor now."
* * * * * * *
The little girls had a lovely time doing just as Mary Frances' mother had written in the recipe. The Kitchen People watched out of the corners of their eyes, but never said a word.
"Oh, isn't this good," sighed Eleanor, eating the light, delicious dessert. Then, "Mary Frances, I know; I'm going to ask my mother for a cook book! I wonder if you'll let me borrow yours some time to show her."
"Of course!" laughed Mary Frances.
Just then there was a ring at the door-bell.
In came Aunt Maria with a mysterious looking bundle.
"Why, my dear, you have company, I see," said the old lady with a smile.
"Yes, ma'am," said Eleanor, "Mary Frances has been giving me a cooking lesson."
Mary Frances shook her head and put her finger to her mouth, but Eleanor didn't understand.
"A cooking lesson!" exclaimed Aunt Maria. "A cooking lesson! Mary Frances! A cooking lesson!"
Then she began to laugh.
"Oh, my dear!" she said. "I'm so happy I'm crying. Silly old me!" and she wiped the tears from her spectacles.
"Mary Frances, dear," she said, at length, "I heard about the lovely things you made Mary Ann Hooper; and I found out, too, by wheedlin' it out of her, about the cooking lessons—and here's a surprise for you," and she handed the bundle to the little girl.
"Oh, Aunt Maria!" cried Mary Frances unwrapping it. "Look, Eleanor!—a little cap and apron!"
"To wear at your cooking lessons," fluttered Aunt Maria.
"How dear and lovely!" (Trying them on.) "Look, Eleanor, they just fit!"
"You're the happiest girl in the world!" sighed Eleanor.
"I should be, if Mother were really well," said Mary Frances; "but she's much better, and is coming home soon. Aunt Maria," she added,—"oh, I want you to share the secret! I'm doing all the lessons she had written out for me in my cook book—to surprise her when she comes home!"
"Good!" said Aunt Maria. "I'll tell you!—you can get dinner ready the day she comes!"
"Wouldn't that be perfectly lovely!" said Mary Frances.
Then, suddenly thinking,—
"Oh, Aunt Maria, excuse me, please! Won't you have some of our lesson?—Some of the Apple Snow we made for our lesson, I mean?"
"I'd ap-pre-ci-ate the kindness," said the old lady a little stiffly, as though a bit ashamed of her softness a moment ago. But after tasting the treat, she said:
"It's the most beautiful snow I ever saw, little girls,—even more beautiful than that on which I, so many years ago, used to pull a sled."
