“An apple-pie.” Amy’s tone indicated immense satisfaction with herself.
“Amy, not really? You couldn’t!” Ruth protested, choking with laughter.
“Seeing’s believing, isn’t it?” Amy whisked off the napkin, and revealed the pie still steaming. When order was sufficiently restored, she told her story.
“I hadn’t exactly made up my mind what I’d ask for, but the minute I was inside the kitchen, I saw the pie set in the window to cool and I decided on that. Poor Mrs. Snooks couldn’t believe her ears. She asked me over twice, and then she said she’d never heard of anybody’s borrowing a pie. And I said that we happened to be out of pies, and were going to have company to dinner. You and Jack will have to stay,” she added to Graham, who accepted with as profound a bow as if he had not been counting confidently on the invitation.
“Did she act very cross?” questioned Priscilla, who was beginning to wonder if Mrs. Snooks’ education had not progressed sufficiently for that day, without any further assistance.
“Oh, not particularly. She looked rather sad, and you couldn’t call her manner obliging, but it isn’t likely that she’d say very much, considering that she’s borrowed something from us once a day on an average, ever since we came.”
“I wish you’d let me take my turn next,” said Claire a little nervously. “I don’t want to wait till she gets to the exploding point, and then be the one to be blown up.”
“Oh, go ahead, I don’t mind.” As a matter of fact, Priscilla shared Claire’s qualms, but would not for the world have admitted as much. Ruth watched Claire moving down the path, reluctance apparent in every step, and declared that it didn’t seem fair. “You girls are bearding the lioness in her den and I’m having all the fun without doing a thing. Aunt Abigail and I are the lucky ones.”
“Bless you, child, I’m going to take my turn,” said the old lady, with a twinkle in her eye which indicated that her requisition on the generosity of Mrs. Snooks would mark a distinct advance in the education of that lady. “I’m going when Priscilla gets back.”
But, as it happened, Aunt Abigail was not called on to redeem her boast. Claire returned with a small package of salt, folded up in brown paper, her courage having failed her when it came to the point of requesting the loan of a more useful article. Priscilla, having joined in the scoffing called out by this evidence of faint-heartedness, was on her guard against a similar display of timidity.