Dishes were next on the list and we ticketed them off easily. Four cups were broken, three saucers and a plate and six water glasses, about a dollar's worth in all, as the china and glass were of the plainest. Then came the kitchen and cooking utensils. We hoped Blanche would go out, but she stood to her guns bravely and refused to desert the ship. Mrs. Rand poked her nose into every crack and crevice and seemed to be hunting dirt which she could not discover. The tins were counted and found O. K.; and then the kitchen spoons and forks were as carefully gone over as though they had been of the finest silver. One iron spoon was worn on the edges and a little bent from the vigorous beating and stirring the batter bread had undergone, and the strictly business Mrs. Rand looked at it dubiously, but finally let it pass along with the "sheep," although her expression was very much what Peter's might be if a goat had butt his way into Paradise.
"Why don't you speak up, girl?"—Page 255
"Where's that there can-opener, a perfectly good one that I bought from a peddler? I wouldn't lose it for a pretty! I never seed one like it before and the man I bought it from said he was the sole agent for it and mor'n likely would not be back this way for years to come," and Mrs. Rand rummaged in the table drawer like some lady who feared she had lost some precious jewel.
Blanche stood back abashed and was silent, and Tweedles and I looked at one another guiltily.
"Why don't you speak up, girl? You needn't think you can get off with my can-opener, 'cause you can't." Still Blanche held to the policy of the Tar Baby and said nothing, and Tweedles and I were as dumb as fish. "It was one of these here combination implements, a cork-screw and can-opener, beer-opener and knife-sharpener, with a potato-parer at one end and apple-corer at the other, and in the middle a nutmeg-grater. I never seen a finer thing, and besides it had a attachment fer the slicin' of Sarytogy chips."
"I am very sorry, Mrs. Rand, but your can-opener is—is—lost," said Dee. "Blanche is not responsible for it, as she had nothing to do with it. Here is a very good can-opener, however, that our father brought back from Norfolk," and she took from its accustomed nail a sturdy little affair of the old-fashioned kind, meant to open cans and to do nothing but open cans, and in consequence one that did open cans. "Here is a cork-screw, and here is a nutmeg-grater! We never did know what all the other parts of the thing were meant for or I am sure my father would have got those, too, as he did not wish to defraud you in any way."
"You talk like that there so-called paw of yours had lost it, and I believe you is just trying to shield this nigger. I never seed a nigger yet who had the gumption to use one of these here labor-saving devices."
The purple colour again rose in Blanche's dusky countenance and the tuft of unwrapped wool began to shake ominously, but still she held her peace, showing that she was a lady at heart. She knew as well as we did what had become of the prized and priceless implement, but her loyalty made her keep silence.
The situation was tense and the irate owner looked from one to another of our solemn countenances, trying to solve the riddle of the lost can-opener. Annie and Mary had come to the kitchen door, Annie with her nose not much the worse for the blow, but with her pretty face very pale from the loss of blood, Mary with the whimsical expression that she always wore when she was taking mental notes of anyone whom she intended to imitate later on.