Mrs. Pry was a “little deaf,” as she called it. She also was a good-natured person. And she was no stranger to the Bobbsey twins. She had worked in their house many times before, and knew her way about very well.
“I suppose, Nan,” she said, “that I’m to take the room I always have?”
“Yes, Aunt Sallie,” answered Nan, for Mrs. Pry wanted to be called by the more affectionate name. “Mother said your old room was ready for you.”
“Then I’ll just take my bag up and be right down to help get supper,” and she started up the stairs.
“I guess Dinah has everything all cooked, ready to eat,” Nan said.
“Oh, you’re going to have boiled beets, are you? That’s good! I’m very fond of boiled beets,” and Mrs. Pry smiled and went on upstairs, not knowing that she had misunderstood Nan. But Nan did not take the trouble then to correct the old lady. She had all she could do, did Nan, to keep Flossie and Freddie from laughing out loud at Mrs. Pry’s queer mistakes.
Bert and Nan at first felt a trifle lonesome because their father and mother had gone away, but this feeling wore off as the evening advanced. There was a jolly little party at the table when the evening meal was served, and Mrs. Pry made many more queer mistakes because she did not catch just what the children or Dinah said. And as the Bobbsey twins were nearly always laughing, anyhow, a few laughs, more or less, at Mrs. Pry’s mistakes did not matter. She did not know they were laughing at her, and, really, it did no harm.
“Anyhow, you can’t help it,” said Bert to Nan afterward. “I thought I’d burst right out snickering when I asked her to pass the bread and she thought I was saying I couldn’t move my head!”
“Yes, that was funny,” agreed Nan. “Is it still snowing, Bert?” she asked, as she got out her books, ready to do some studying for the next day.
“Yes, snowing hard,” Bert reported as he held his hands to the sides of his face so he could peer out into the darkness. “Going to be a regular blizzard, I guess.”