"I'm the mammy and you-alls are tied to my apron string! Behave yourselves, chillun!" cried Alene, glancing back warningly along the line.
The kitchen was a square room with tiled-linoleum floor covering. A highly-polished, range whose copper boiler glowed like a mirror occupied one side along with a spotless sink; besides a mammoth cupboard, there was an old-fashioned corner cupboard with glass upper doors; two well-scoured tables stood at convenient points, the one near the window having a rug beside it and a hospitable rocking chair, which, with a few other chairs, a small time-piece and a calendar, completed the furnishings. The wide door opened upon a commodious porch with two steps leading to the garden.
It was a very jewel of a kitchen, this in which good Mrs. Major reigned queen. Mr. Dawson declared that he always regarded his boots doubtfully ere venturing in upon the floor and that he was afraid to touch the immaculate objects it contained.
"Do you really cook potatoes and make vulgar mush in those pots on that range? Do you actually use these tables?" he would ask, and one day, running his hand across a shelf, he pretended to find a speck of dust which he carried away in triumph to preserve.
"You girls think I'm only fooling," he said to Kizzie and Alene one day; "but I assure you if I were to make a grease-spot on that table I'd run away with visions of Mrs. Major, butcher knife in hand, at my heels, and I'd never dare to enter the house again!"
His niece did not share in his scruples as she and her guests entered upon the spot dedicated to quiet and order, and soon, like spirits of disorder, upset its calm. Half a dozen cooking utensils were brought forth, drawers opened, cupboards and pantry rifled.
"One would think we each had forty mouths to eat with, judging by all the material set out," said Laura, who, following where the others led in their mad assault upon the provisions, tried to keep a semblance of order, by returning things to their places.
Amid all the havoc Vera was the only one who preserved her calm. Seated in the rocking chair, she swung lazily back and forth, pausing occasionally to reach for a cube of sugar or to taste the various condiments on the table. She was enjoying herself thoroughly in spite of the consciousness that it was all on a par with tissue-paper hats and other affairs peculiar to the Happy-Go-Luckys, that queer club of which she had heard.
"They get a lot of fun out of it. I don't see why the girls in our set couldn't start one!"
While she pictured herself presiding over the new club, which no one outside the favored few would be allowed to enter, the other girls, after careful measuring, had placed on the range a pot half filled with the materials necessary for the taffy of which Alene wished to make enough not for themselves only, but to share liberally with all the Lee and Bonner children.