"Thelfithh," jeered Tommy. "Make me thome plum pudding and thome angel food while you are about it. I jutht love angel food and plum duff, ath my father callth it."
"Custard is good enough for you, Tommy Thompson," laughed Margery. "May I make the custard, Miss Elting?"
The guardian nodded smilingly.
"If you think you can."
"I'll show you. Where are the milk and the eggs and the other things?"
"The milk is in that pail that hangs over the side at the other end of the boat. The eggs are in the paper box behind the stove. The rest of your materials are in the supply box. As for water, there is a lake full of it, enough to make custard for the whole world," remarked Miss Elting.
"Now you are teasing me—and you, too, Harriet. You will be glad I thought of it, however, after you have tasted the custard."
"After I have tasted it, yes," returned Harriet significantly.
That there was some hidden meaning in Harriet's remark, Margery well knew. That was as near as she got to understanding just then. Later on she understood more fully.
"I am afraid you haven't time to make the custard for supper," added Harriet.