“Say,” cried Russ, as he struggled to open the door again, “if you talk like that to our Norah——”
“Never mind,” laughed the good-natured cook. “Such peddlers aren’t worth answering. He’s angry because we didn’t buy something. If he had been polite about it I might, but he was too——”
“Too smart! That’s what he was!” finished Rose, and that about described the shoe-lace peddler.
In the kitchen Norah and the six little Bunkers could hear him muttering to himself as he walked away, but as Daddy Bunker just then called the children to give them some picture papers that had come by mail, they forgot all about the impolite lad.
The Bunker children had fun looking through the illustrated magazine and they were rather glad to sit down and do this, for picking the strawberries on the distant hill had been rather tiring.
“I wish supper would soon be ready. I want some of Rose’s shortcake,” remarked Violet.
“It looked good,” returned Russ. “If it tastes half as good as it looks, it will be great!”
“I hope it will be good,” said Rose modestly.
Six hungry little Bunkers sat down to the supper table, and pretty soon there were no more six hungry little Bunkers, for they ate so many of the good things Norah cooked for them that they were no longer hungry. But there was still six little Bunkers, and they were anxious to try Rose’s strawberry shortcake.
“I’ll bring it in to the table and Rose can cut it,” said Norah.