Janie cocked her chin to one side and put her fists on her hips. “You know that Mom won’t let you bring all that junk along.”
“Junk!” exclaimed James indignantly. “These are my duplicates. I’m going to sort them out this summer.” He set the stack down carefully on the back porch, and the top-most box toppled over and spilled countless little bright-colored squares all over the floor. James scooped them all up in a hurry, and tucked the boxes, books, and albums into whatever space he could find in the rear of the car.
When Mom returned from her shopping they went down into the cool basement and carefully packed what was left of the home-preserved fruits and vegetables.
“Bring a lot of pickles,” said Davey. “Lots and lots of pickles.”
By the middle of the afternoon everything was ready. Mom went upstairs for a bath and fresh clothes, and Janie decided to surprise her.
They were going to have a picnic supper, and she felt that it should be something special to celebrate the occasion. She paged through the cook books and the recipe files and lost a little of her courage. I’d better limit myself to a dessert, she thought. The last time I tried a whole meal it didn’t turn out so well. A very handsome three-layer cake took her eye, and she assembled all her ingredients, and then gathered together all the bowls, pans, and spoons she would need.
Davey walked in carrying Butch. Janie dusted the flour off her hands, and raised her eyebrows in an expression of true big-sister superiority.
“I thought, Davey,” she said, “that Mom wanted you to keep Butch outside today.”
Davey looked plaintive. “I know,” he grumbled, “but we want to play hide-and-go-seek, and he always runs to where I’m hiding, and then I’m always ‘it’.”
Janie giggled. “Okay, Davey. Leave him here. I’ll take care of him.”