“I have to go to the corner grocery, Janet. I need some cinnamon to make apple pies. You’ll be all right for a little while, won’t you?”
“Oh, yes, Norah,” Janet answered. “Anyhow, Patrick is here.”
“To be sure he is,” said Norah, and she knew she would not have to worry. She might even be able to stop a few minutes and chat with Mary, the maid from next door, who usually went to the store about this time.
After Norah had gone Janet strolled out into the kitchen. She saw where Norah had started to make the pies, and at once a bold thought came into Janet’s mind.
“I’ll make a pie myself,” she said. “I’ve often watched mother and Norah, so I know how. I don’t need any cinnamon in my pie. I’ll make it without.”
The flour, water, lard and other things that go to make pie dough were already on the table. Doing as nearly as she could remember having seen her mother and Norah do, Janet mixed up in a brown bowl some flour, lard and milk.
“Oh, it feels just lovely on your hands!” she said to Ted, who stuck his head in the kitchen door to ask what his sister was doing. “It’s just like the squidgie mud we play with at the pond.”
“You can’t make a pie!” scoffed Ted.
“I can so!” insisted Janet. “I’ll show you! I’ll have it in the oven before Norah comes back and s’prise her!”
“I guess nobody could eat your pie after you made it!” laughed teasing Ted.