When he reached the stairs he began to chuckle. “The little scamp!” he murmured, “if she didn’t fairly override me. She’s just like her father; such spirit.”
It was a busy morning for Joanne. She looked into the refrigerator to take account of stock. There was lamb to be roasted, lettuce to be prepared for salad with tomatoes. The dessert was made, fortunately, and was on the ice. In the pantry she found potatoes and other vegetables. She surveyed these thoughtfully, coming to the conclusion that baked sweet potatoes and lima beans would be the best selection for that day. There was canned soup which would lighten her labors. Then she set to work. First she pored over the cook-book to find out how long it would take to cook the various articles, then she prepared her vegetables, and, once all were set going, she went to the dining-room and made ready the table.
Not once did she go up-stairs for fear of disturbing her grandmother and of undergoing a cross-examination. She was on her knees before the stove, basting the meat, when she heard a startled exclamation and, looking up, saw her grandmother standing in the doorway, an expression of surprise and almost of horror on her face.
“My child,” she cried, “what are you doing?”
Joanne shut the oven door and rose to her feet. “Cooking dinner,” she replied smoothly.
“Cooking dinner? What do you mean? Where is Maria?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea. She and Hester have gone bag and baggage; at least they have left no visible possessions here; so I suppose they have gone for good.”
Mrs. Selden sank into a chair and raised her hands in dismay. “What are we coming to? Here it is Sunday and no way to get help. What are we to do?”
“Eat the dinner when it’s cooked and wash up the dishes afterward,” returned Joanne in a cheerful voice.
“Oh, but you poor child, you couldn’t possibly do everything.”