“I know—I know!” exclaimed Alexia again, and nodding to herself wisely.
Jasper threw her a quick glance. It said, “If you know, don't tell, Alexia.” And she flashed back, “Did you suppose I would?”
“What do you know?” demanded Clare, transferring his attention from Jasper to her. “Tell on, Alexia; what do you know?”
“Oh, my goodness me! this candy never will be done in time for those meats,” cried Alexia, picking up the spoon to stir away for dear life. And Jasper dashed in on what Mr. Faber said about Pickering's chances for college; a statement that completely carried Clare off his feet, so to speak.
“You don't mean that he thinks Pick will get in without conditions?” gasped Clare, dumfounded.
“Yes, I do.” Jasper nodded brightly. “If Pick will only study; keep it up, you know, I mean to the end. He surely said it, Clare.”
It was so much for Clare to think of, that he didn't have any words at his command.
“Now isn't that perfectly splendid in Pickering!” cried Alexia, making the spoon fly merrily. “Oh dear me! I forgot to put in the butter. Where—oh, here it is,” and she tossed in a big piece. “To think that—oh dear me, I forgot! I did put the butter in before. Now I've spoilt it,” and she threw down the spoon in despair.
“Fish it out,” cried Polly, hopping up and seizing the spoon to make little dabs at the ball of butter now rapidly lessening.
“But it's melted—that is, almost—oh dear me!” cried Alexia.