“I think we’re getting the worst of that bargain,” Jack Rynson said with feeling. “Swapping one of Miss Peggy’s pies, for one of Mrs. Snooks’. I’ve tried both, and I ought to know.”
“Then we’ll send it back just as it is,” declared Amy with another happy inspiration. “We’ll change it to another plate, and she won’t know whether it is her pie or not. And, even if she suspects the truth, what difference does it make?”
This brilliant idea was actually carried out, after some demurring on the part of Peggy, who was afraid that Mrs. Snooks’ feelings might be hurt. Graham was delegated to return the pie and did so that evening, with a suitable expression of thanks which Mrs. Snooks received without returning the usual assurance that every one concerned was perfectly welcome.
Graham turning to go up-stairs, halted by the door. “Oh, by the way, Mrs. Snooks, if you could let me have–”
“I’m entirely out,” replied Mrs. Snooks, without waiting for him to finish.
Graham stared. Then he understood that Mrs. Snooks was suspecting him of complicity in the plot, and his amusement came very near getting the better of his politeness. In his effort not to laugh, his handsome young face flushed a not unbecoming scarlet.
“It was only that I lost a button on the way home, Mrs. Snooks, and I thought if you would–”
“I’ve lent my last spool of thread,” said Mrs. Snooks, “and I haven’t a needle to my name. Henney dropped my thimble down the well last week, and as for buttons, the only ones I own are on the children’s clothes. But if you want any of them things, Mr. Wylie, you’ll find a right good assortment at Dowd’s. He keeps a good stock, if ’tis nothing but a country store.”
Graham thanked her and went to his room. He reflected that Mrs. Snooks had not only learned her lesson, but had applied it, which is not always the case with promising pupils.