“I was making peach tarts,” she said. “But I didn’t finish.”
“Never mind,” soothed her mother, for Flossie had been punished enough, Mrs. Bobbsey thought. “You may have some of Nan’s tarts.”
And when Flossie had been washed and a clean dress put on her, she was given one of the first of the tarts from the oven. For Nan’s baking turned out wonderfully well.
“You’re getting to be quite a cook,” complimented Mr. Watson at the table a little later, when Nan’s tarts were served.
“You can put the story of Flossie and her tarts in your composition, Nan,” suggested Bert.
“Yes, I guess I will,” was his sister’s answer. “I hope some more things happen around here before we go home,” Nan went on. “The more things I have in my composition the better it will be, and maybe I can win the prize.”
“I’d give some one a good prize if he or she could find my lost glasses,” sighed Mrs. Martin. She was still without her spectacles, though she gave up a large part of each day to looking for them.
“I guess you’ll have to wait until your doctor gets back, and then have him write you a prescription for a new pair,” suggested Mr. Watson, as he got on the floor to “play horse” with Baby Jenny.
“I think some one must have taken them, either by mistake or on purpose,” said the old lady. “I remember perfectly well that I had them the day the cattle ran away. Then I laid them down and some one must have come in and picked them up.”
“Who would do such a thing as that?” asked Mrs. Bobbsey.