“It doesn’t seem to me so either,” returned Mrs. Loomis, “but where are the spoons?”
Jessie shook her head, and the loss remained a mystery, for no amount of searching brought them to light. It even became more and more mystifying, for in a few days a little coffee-spoon was missing. It was a souvenir spoon which had been sent to Mrs. Loomis by her sister, and had been left on Mrs. Loomis’s dressing bureau after the box containing it was opened.
“This is more and more perplexing,” said Mrs. Loomis, “for I know positively that I left it in my room, and who in the world could go up there without my knowledge?”
This was the last spoon taken, and although the matter was not forgotten it was after a while dropped, all concluding that in some unexplained way the spoons had fallen behind the surbase or through a crack in the floor. This might explain the disappearance of the teaspoons, for there was a large crack in the kitchen floor near the fireplace, but it could not account for the coffee-spoon. “I’ll have that board in the kitchen taken up in the spring,” said Mr. Loomis. “We don’t want to take the stove down now, and no doubt you will find the other in your room somewhere when the spring cleaning is done.” So the matter rested.
When Jessie told Adele about the loss she declared that Playmate Polly had taken them. It was her way to charge Playmate Polly with all sorts of evil traits, and the two little girls quarreled upon this subject oftener than any other, absurd as it was. If Adele wanted to tease Jessie she had but to say something disagreeable about Playmate Polly, and Jessie’s anger would rise, so that it finally became as a red rag to a bull, and the more Adele teased the more Jessie resented it.
They seldom played by the brook now, but the attic was a great source of pleasure. It was well heated by a register, so there was no danger that the children should take cold. A set of shelves on one side made a fine playhouse, and Sam had made a low table of just the proper height. It was a rough sort of affair, but served its purpose. The legs of two old chairs were sawed down to suit the children and a bit of old carpet was spread upon the floor, so they considered that the playroom was finely furnished. Minerva put up a little white curtain at the window, and would always remember them on baking days with a little pie, a pan of tiny rolls, or some small cakes, so that Saturday was feast day as well as holiday.
One Saturday the two children were sitting at the table coloring some pictures in a couple of old magazines. Mr. Hallett had brought them each a small paint box the night before and they took this first opportunity of trying their powers. Cloudy, attired in the long white frock belonging to Jessie’s baby doll, was asleep in an improvised crib made of a small stool turned upside down. He seemed perfectly satisfied and was having a good nap. Charity sat by his side in the character of nurse, and Peter Pan was sitting in a swing which hung from the rafters.
“I think I shall put a red frock on my lady,” Adele said.
“I tried red,” said Jessie, “but it doesn’t go very well. It is kind of thick and messy looking. I believe I will try this yellow.” They worked away for a few moments, very much absorbed in their painting, but they were interrupted by a faint mew from the crib. “The baby is waking up,” said Jessie, “and he can’t walk about very well in that long frock. I shall have to take it off, I suppose, so he can run about.”
“But he does look so cunning in it,” said Adele admiringly.