“Then—then, maybe it is French rolls; I hope it is, for I dearly like them.”
“You won’t have your appetite pampered by them this night, although I don’t believe you’ll refuse what is in the oven.”
“Let me see,” Elizabeth reflected. “I shall have to think very hard for this is my last go.” She looked around the kitchen. “It is not anything you cut out, for you are not using the biscuit board.” She went over to the sink where stood some dishes which Electra had set there to wash. Elizabeth regarded them earnestly. “That bowl looks as if it might have had muffins stirred up in it,” remarked Elizabeth, “though,” she added hastily, “that isn’t a guess, ’Lectra.”
“It is just another side remark, I suppose,” returned Electra.
Elizabeth opened the door of one of the cupboards and looked in. “It can’t be muffins,” she said, “for there are the muffin pans.”
“Well, now, ain’t you smart?” declared Electra. “Who but you would have thought of that? Now turn your back and don’t peep while I’m looking in the oven again.”
Elizabeth obeyed. “I can use my nose if I can’t my eyes.” She made the remark sniffing thoughtfully. “Oh, Electra, I believe I can guess with my nose; it is Sally Lunn.”
“Well, now, ain’t you got a good nose; that’s just what it is,” Electra told her. “We ain’t had any in a long time, and as the bread had give out with so much extra company over Sunday, I thought I’d stir some up this morning. Being wash day, I couldn’t do a regular baking.”
“I’m mighty glad you couldn’t, for Sally Lunn is much better than bread or rolls or anything like that. Is it most done, Electra?” Elizabeth peeped over the woman’s shoulder as she tested the browning cakes.
“Not quite, but pretty near. You run in and get me a plate while I take up this ham; then you can sound the gong, for I reckon by the time they all collect we shall be ready.”