“All right, Betty; and as you’ve announced yourself Peeler, you can begin your vocation. Oh, you’ve got a future before you!”
Betty looked a little dubious, but bravely picked up the basket, saying: “Very well; I’ll peel them, if some one else will fry them.”
“I’ll fry them,” returned Marjorie. “In my capacity of chief cook I’ll do all the cooking for this first supper. Now let me see; what are we going to have?”
The others, as usual, all began to talk at once.
Marjorie seized a long iron spoon, and, rapping on the table, said: “This meeting will please come to order. If you don’t we’ll never have any supper. Now don’t all talk at once, but if you’ve any sensible propositions to make, make them when you’re called on. Betty the Peeler, have you any suggestions to offer?”
But Betty was speechless. She held a great pan filled with water in her lap, in which the onions were bobbing up and down. She was peeling away vigorously, but her eyes were very red and the tears were rolling down her cheeks.
“ ‘With a smile on her lip and a tear in her eye,’ ” quoted Marjorie, laughing.
“She’s more like Niobe—all tears,” said Helen; “come, Hester, let’s wipe her weeping eyes for her”; and the two stationed themselves on either side of Betty, with their handkerchiefs in readiness.
“Now!” said Helen,“left! right! left! right!” And they dabbed poor Betty’s eyes so energetically that they were redder than ever.
“Clear out, girls, or you’ll soon weep with those that weep,” cried Betty. “Go away; these are nearly done. Who’ll carry out the pan of skins?”