A squeal from Mary Lee followed this operation, for she squeezed one potato too hard and it burst with a pop, burning her thumb.
Nan dressed the burn with a plaster of baking soda and dished up the potatoes herself. "Where's Jean?" she asked.
"She put on her best frock and is in the living-room entertaining the gentlemen," returned Mary Lee. "It's time Jack came back, don't you think, Nan?"
"High time," returned Nan, carefully transferring the rest of the eggs from pan to dish. "I've only broken one, Mary Lee, and the bacon is quite covered. Everything is nearly ready, but, oh, dear, how does any one ever do it quickly and easily? It is impossible to keep your mind on bacon and eggs and biscuits and potatoes all at once, and how any one remembers more than that is beyond me. There, we came near forgetting the peaches. Get them out of the pantry, and bring some fine sugar to put over them."
"It's getting pretty late," remarked Mary Lee, looking down the street, "but here comes Jack at last."
"I know it's late and I expect those boys are starved, but I can't help it; I've done my best."
"I should think you had," said Mary Lee; "you oughtn't to have had so much."
"I'm sorry I had potatoes, for they made you burn yourself. Well, Jack," as that young person entered the kitchen mud-stained and tearful, "what have you been doing? What is the matter?"
Jack held out a flattened parcel. "I fell down," she sobbed, "and I fell plumb on the cake."