"I'm making cookies for Johnny," Miss Lydia said, briskly, and Mary's soft hands clenched. Why shouldn't she be making cookies for Johnny!
"I've got a pan in the oven," said Miss Lydia, "and I've got to watch 'em."
Mary was silent; she sat down by the table, her breath catching in her throat. Miss Lydia did not, apparently, notice the agitation; she bustled about and brought her a cooky on a cracked plate—and watched her.
"I want—" Mary said, in a trembling voice, and crumbling the cooky with nervous fingers—"I mean, I am going to have Johnny visit me this winter."
"Oh," said Miss Lydia, and sat down.
"I'll have him during the holidays."
"No."
"Why not?" Mary said, angrily.
"He'd guess."
"You needn't be afraid of that!"