“Come, we’ll buy three sticks, and I’ll hire you to chew one apiece,” she said. “Peel off the silver paper without tearing it.”
“I don’t like gum after the wintergreen flavor goes,” said Betsey, chewing hard.
“You can’t have it anyway,” said Cousin Margaret severely. “Didn’t I buy it for my quart bottle?”
“You’re going to mold it!” cried Betsey, skipping along the sidewalk. “Aren’t you clever!”
Mother smiled when she saw them go upstairs again, and she went quietly out to the pantry without saying a word.
Cousin Margaret sat down at Mr. Betts’ work-table with a mighty puff. She smoothed away on the bright tin-foil until it shone like solid silver. Then she molded her soft chewing-gum carefully into a tiny pint bottle. She clipped off a long strip of tin-foil and wound it around the bottle, pinched the top a little, and glued on a paper label.
“Keeps cold twenty-four hours!” she cried, holding it out for inspection.
“Good!” shouted Tom and Betsey.
“Hand over your gum, children,” said Cousin Margaret. “It takes two for a quart. You can be making the lunch-basket.”
“Weren’t you going to play tennis this afternoon?” asked Betsey thoughtfully. “Mother said I mustn’t bother you.”