AGNES CLARK LESLEY.
“Well, it was decent of her to apologize, anyhow,” commented Dan.
“If we only hadn’t said that about the Governor,” moaned Felicity.
“How did you make your rusks?” asked Aunt Janet. “There was no baking-powder in the house, and I never could get them right with soda and cream of tartar.”
“There was plenty of baking-powder in the pantry,” said Felicity.
“No, there wasn’t a particle. I used the last making those cookies Thursday morning.”
“But I found another can nearly full, away back on the top shelf, ma,—the one with the yellow label. I guess you forgot it was there.”
Aunt Janet stared at her pretty daughter blankly. Then amazement gave place to horror.
“Felicity King!” she exclaimed. “You don’t mean to tell me that you raised those rusks with the stuff that was in that old yellow can?”
“Yes, I did,” faltered Felicity, beginning to look scared. “Why, ma, what was the matter with it?”