“Half acre nothing, your stuff was too thin and didn’t stick! Here—gimme your bucket.”
Sherm stalked off disgustedly and was soon back with a gloriously messy batch of clay which he dashed painstakingly into the crack and into sundry other cracks that his keen eyes discovered.
“When you’re doing a job, you might as well learn to do it right—it saves time in the long run,” he lectured with an absurd imitation of his father’s manner.
“Quit your preaching!” growled Carol.
“Alee samee, Sherm did the business, Carol,” retorted Ernest. “Gee, it’s going with a whoop!”
And the furnace certainly proved the force of Sherman’s words, for the fire crackled merrily.
The children watched it, fascinated, waiting till the embers should be ready for the apples and potatoes.
Katy had a bright idea. “Say, Jane, get your dishes and I’ll ask Mother if I can bring over our little table and we’ll have a sure enough tea party.”
“Oh, shucks, we don’t want any doll parties!” said Ernest.
“’Twon’t be a doll party—it’ll be a people’s party,” protested Jane.