"Now, Miss Phyllis, I couldn't help it this time, for how did I know that the can of mustard, standing there on the shelf as big as you please, was empty?"
It was chronic with Lucy to forget things, and it was usually Phyllis that went after them.
"Never mind, Lucy; it's hard luck. I don't see myself why those everlasting cans don't tell you when they are empty; it would save my steps, I know that."
"Cans speak! Go way with you," Lucy replied in a gust of laughter.
Phyllis swung down off the table.
"After two more days there'll be another me to go out and buy what you forget to order," she said as she ran up the back stairs.
Lucy watched her and then shook her head at the row of shining pans on the wall opposite.
"That, my dear, will never be," she said solemnly. "Look like you she may and lucky she is to be so blest, but be like you, I beg to differ. The dear Lord only made the one. Glory be," she added piously.
Phyllis, upstairs, was trying to think of something, no matter how small, to do to improve Janet's room.