[CHAPTER V—DOWN AT MISS LIZA’S]
“Here is your tin pail, Susan. Try not to lose the cover, child.”
“Yes, Grandmother.”
“And I’ve put your slippers in this little bag. Be sure to bring them home again with you.”
“Yes, Grandmother.”
“And tell Miss Liza she is to start you home at half-past three.
“Tell her I said so. She will have had quite enough of you children by that time, but she is so good-natured she would let you stay till Doomsday if you liked.” And Grandmother, straightening Susan’s hat, smiled down into the expectant little face looking up into hers.
“Yes, Grandmother,” answered Susan for the last time, and ran off to join Phil, who, also provided with a pail and a pair of bedroom slippers, stood waiting in the lane.
“Isn’t this nice?” asked Susan as, clashing their pails cheerfully, they moved briskly along the road. “I do love to go to Miss Liza’s. When she lived in your house I used to go over every day, and sometimes when she was baking she would let me help. She had little wee cake pans of a fish, and a leaf, and a star.” And Susan smiled at happy memories of Miss Liza’s baking-days.
“Will we make cakes to-day, do you think?” inquired Phil, who, invited with Susan to spend the day at Miss Eliza Tallman’s, was making his first social call of the season and was not quite sure what was expected of him. For all he knew to the contrary, it was customary to carry a tin pail and bedroom slippers when going visiting for the day.