“And you forgot to wash it off before you mixed the batter for these cakes,” sputtered Ralph. “Fellows, pancakes flavored with fly dope are the worst ever.”
“Shucks!” grunted Hardware, “and I was counting on pancakes!”
“Dancing dish rags!” growled Persimmons. “What sort of a cook are you anyhow, Jimmie? Flavored with fly dope,—wow! wow!”
Jimmie looked ready to cry, and sniffed his fingers remorsefully.
“Guess you’re right,” he admitted dolefully. “I’m sorry, fellows, but I reckon as a cook I’m a failure.”
“I hope it isn’t poison, that’s all,” groaned Hardware, with a glance at Ralph. “Feel any symptoms, Ralph?”
“None that can’t be stopped by plenty of coffee and a big plateful of grub,” laughed Ralph good-naturedly.