Whatever it was, it put her in a great hurry. As fast as she had dashed to the kitchen she now ran to the front hall, but the third step of the stairs halted her.
“Elliott Cameron,” she declared earnestly, “I do believe you have lost your mind! Haven’t you any sense at all? And you a responsible housekeeper!”
Perhaps it wasn’t the first time a whirlwind had ever struck the Cameron farmhouse. Elliott hadn’t a notion that she could work so fast. Her feet fairly flew. Bed-covers whisked into place; dusting-cloths raced over furniture; even milk-pans moved with unwonted celerity. But she left them clean, clean and shining.
“There!” said the girl, “now we shall do well enough till dinner-time. I’m going 255 into the village. Anybody want to come?”
Priscilla jumped up. “I do, unless Trudy wants to more.”
Gertrude shook her head. “I’m going to put up tomatoes,” she said, “the rest of the ripe ones.”
“Don’t you want help?”
“Not a bit. Tomatoes are no work, at all.”
Elliott dashed up-stairs. In a whirl of excitement she pinned on her hat and counted her money. No matter how much it cost, she meant to say all that she wanted to.
Her cheeks were pink and her dimples hard at work playing hide-and-seek with their own shadows, when she cranked the little car. Everything would come right now; it couldn’t fail to come right. Priscilla hopped into the seat beside her and they sped away.