"I wouldn't beat more'n half at a time, honey."
Beth accepted the suggestion and succeeded in getting a good stiff froth from the eggs. Next, she measured out the other ingredients. She tried to be careful, but somehow she spilled flour not only over the pantry floor but also over herself.
"Beth, you are a powdered beauty," called a boyish voice from the open pantry door.
"Why, Harvey, where did you come from?"
"Oh, I came to see you, and your mother told me I'd find you here. What are you making?"
"Wait until I put this pan in the oven, and I'll tell you all about it. Maggie," added Beth to the cook, "you're not to peep at my cake even. Promise me."
"Law, honey, I won't even go into the kitchen if yo' don't want me to. I'll stay here in de pantry until yo' calls me, but I fear you'll forget it."
"No, indeed, I won't."
The precious cake was consigned to the oven, and then Beth joined Harvey on the piazza.
"I've made an angel's cake, Harvey, and I'm going to get a prize for it. Mamma says the only way to learn to cook is just to cook."