A sudden mischievous light illumined Amy’s eyes. “Let’s give her a real lesson,” she cried. “Let’s show her how it seems to have your neighbors always borrowing things. Peggy’s gone after a little ginger, you say?”
“Yes,” nodded Ruth fascinated by the possibilities she saw unfolding in Amy’s plan.
“Well, when Peggy gets home, I’ll go down and do some borrowing. And it won’t be anything like ginger, you understand. I’ll pick out some real useful article, that she’ll miss every minute. That’s the way she does. And when I get back, Priscilla will take her turn.”
Had Peggy been present it is doubtful whether the project would have been received with such unanimous enthusiasm. Peggy’s softness of heart interfered sadly, at times, with her theories of discipline. But in her absence the conspiracy against Mrs. Snooks’ peace of mind was discussed and elaborated without a dissenting voice. Even Aunt Abigail tacitly approved, and Jack Rynson, who, it appeared, had been solicited to lend a handkerchief and a black necktie, that Mr. Snooks might be properly attired for attending a funeral in the village, gave the schemers the benefit of several valuable suggestions.
Peggy made her appearance dimpling with amusement, and was greeted with a shout of interrogation. “Did you get it?” cried half a dozen voices in chorus.
“Yes, I got it, but you never saw anybody so surprised and unwilling. She hinted and fussed, and dropped hints that she’d been thinking of making gingerbread for supper herself. It really made me uncomfortable to take it, but I felt it was time that she had a lesson.”
“High time!” agreed Amy with a droll glance at her fellow-conspirators. The unsuspecting Peggy looked about with mild surprise on the laughing group. “Well, we’re sure of our gingerbread, anyway,” she said and passed into the house. Amy was instantly on her feet.
“Oh, Amy,” exclaimed Ruth, half admiringly, and half in remonstrance, “do you really dare?”
“Dare? Why, I don’t need any great amount of courage. I’m only Number Two. It’s Number Five or Number Six who’ll have to be brave.” Amy went gaily down the path, and Peggy as she stirred the soda into the molasses, wondered at the laughter on the front porch and reflected that the crowd was in unusually jolly spirits.
About the time that the gingerbread was beginning to diffuse its savory odors through the house, Amy returned. A glance at her triumphant face furnished sufficient proof that her undertaking had been successful, even without the silent testimony of a large object concealed by a napkin, and carried with ostentatious care. “Oh, Amy, what have you there?” cried Priscilla, finding some difficulty in making her voice heard above the chorus of exclamations and laughter.