“O, if I could only do it—if I only could!” she breathed. “But I—I couldn’t go around to the stores and ask them to sell for me. I never could do that!”
“Well, you don’t have to. I’d do that for you. I wouldn’t mind it,” Sadie declared. “You just make up some of those spicy Christmas cakes and some others, a few, you know, just for samples, and I’ll take ’em out for you. I know they’ll sell.”
“I—I’m not so sure,” Elizabeth faltered.
Sadie’s brows met in a black frown. “You’re a regular ’fraid-cat, ’Lizabeth Page!” she exclaimed, stamping her foot. “How do you ever expect to do anything if you’re scared to try! To-morrow’s Sat’-day. Can’t you get up early an’ make some?”
It was settled that she should. There was little sleep for Elizabeth that night, so eager and excited was she, and very early in the morning she crept down to the kitchen and set to work. Before her usual rising time, Sadie ran downstairs, buttoning her dress as she went.
“Have you made ’em?” she demanded, her black eyes snapping.
“Yes,” Elizabeth glanced at the clock, “I’m just going to take them out.” She opened the oven door, then she gasped and her face whitened as she drew out the pans.
“My goodness!” cried Sadie. “Elizabeth Page—what ails ’em?”
“O—O!” wailed Elizabeth, “I must have left out the baking powder—and I never did before in all my life!”
“Well!” Sadie exploded. “If this is the way you’re going to——” Then the misery in Elizabeth’s face was too much for her. She stopped short, biting her tongue to keep back the bitter words.