“I think you’re real mean!” declared Janet, with the beginning of a tear in each eye. “If you want some of my pie you can’t have it—so there!”
“Oh, well, maybe it will be all right,” laughed Ted, feeling a bit sorry for what he had said. “And if it’s good I’ll eat some. But why don’t you put the apples in?” he asked, seeing some of the sliced fruit in a bowl on the table. Norah had gotten the apples ready for her pies. “I’ll put them in for you,” offered Ted, and he raised the sliced apples toward the bowl where Janet was mixing up the sticky dough.
“No! No! They don’t go in here yet!” cried the little girl. “I have to roll out the crust first, like mother does! Oh, you stop, Ted Martin!” she wailed, as her brother tossed a few pieces of apple into the dough. “I’ll tell mother on you! Oh, now look what you did!”
For as Janet raised one arm to keep Ted from putting any more of the sliced apples into the dough, something happened. The next minute the bowl of dough crashed to the floor, a mixture of milk, flour, lard and other things, and began running over the oilcloth.
“Oh! Oh!” gasped Janet.
“Um!” grunted Ted.
Then the front doorbell rang.
CHAPTER IV
TED’S TUMBLE
There was silence in the house of the Curlytops for a few moments after the ringing of the front doorbell. Ted and Janet stood in the center of the kitchen, looking first at one another and then at the floor, covered with dough, milk and sliced apples.
Again the bell rang.