She paused and gazed about the kitchen. That, at least, would need cleaning over again.
“Yes,” she resumed, “I always call and invite them to join our Sewing and Dorcas Societies.”
“My mother belonged to both!” exclaimed Joe eagerly. “That is in Bentville where we lived. I heard her saying she wondered if there was a society here.”
“There is,” answered Mrs. Peterkin majestically, “and I think I shall call soon, and ask her to join. You may tell her I said so,” she added as if it was a great honor.
“I will,” answered Joe. “And now if you’ll tell me where I can get some old cloths I’ll help clean up this muss.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Mrs. Peterkin slowly. Clearly her manner had undergone a great change. “I suppose boys must have their fun,” she said with something like a sigh. “I know you didn’t mean to do it, but my apple sauce is spoiled.”
“I’ll pay for it,” offered Joe eagerly. He was beginning to see a rift in the trouble clouds.
“No,” said Mrs. Peterkin, “it’s all right. I have plenty more apples.”
“Then let us help clean the place?” asked Tom.