A little later, down the back stairway, floated the voice of Nan, speaking to her mother in the latter’s room.
“An’ Ah reckon Bert didn’t see Nan,” went on Dinah. “So far it’s all right. Dat is ef dey don’t ketch Flossie in de back hall.”
But this did not happen, because Flossie remained in the little closet under the stairs for some time. She appeared to be taking great pains to hide the box she was carrying.
However, a little later Flossie came softly back into the kitchen through the door leading to the back hall.
“There! Nobody knows where it is but me!” she declared.
“Dat’s good,” murmured Dinah.
“And maybe I could have a piece of pie,” went on the little girl. “I think you bake the loveliest pies, Dinah! Honest I do!”
“Yes’m, honey lamb, dey is good!” admitted the cook, with pardonable pride in her work. “But Ah cain’t cut a fresh pie fo’ yo!”
“Oh, dear!” sighed Flossie.
There was a noise on the cellar stairs and Dinah wondered if Freddie were coming up.