“Ain’t hungry! Sakes alive, what sort of a boy are you? Why, of course you’re hungry, though maybe you don’t know it. Here, you try that nice crusty corner piece and tell me whether it’s as good as your mother’s.” She held the plate out and after a moment’s hesitation Cal obeyed. Somehow, as soon as he had sunk his teeth in the gingerbread his troubles looked much dimmer. Mrs. Linn seated herself in a chair and beamed across at him while he ate, having first thoughtfully deposited the plate beside him on the window-seat.
“You live by the ocean, don’t you?” she asked. “That’s what I’d like to do. I’m that fond of the ocean! I was at Old Orchard Beach for three weeks this summer and it was just heavenly. Seems as though I could just sit on the sand all day long and look at the waves and be perfectly happy! Is there a beach where you live, Cal?”
“Yes’m, two fine beaches.” And once started, Cal had a lot to say about West Bayport and the surrounding coast, and Mrs. Linn let him talk to his heart’s content, occasionally throwing in a question or dropping an interested “I want to know!” And while he talked the gingerbread on the plate grew less and less. Finally Mrs. Linn declared that she must go back to the kitchen.
“I’ll leave the rest of that for Ned,” she said. “But you mustn’t let the others know about it or there won’t be any for supper.”
“No’m. Thank you very much. It’s awfully nice gingerbread; just like my mother makes. I—I like lots of molasses in it, don’t you?”
“Molasses is just the making of gingerbread,” asseverated Mrs. Linn. “Molasses and spices. You’ve got to be particular about the spices too.”
“Yes’m, I cal’late you have.” He remembered that he had observed the other boys rise when Mrs. Linn entered or left the room and so he got up rather awkwardly from the window-seat and stood while she bustled out. It was funny, he reflected, how that gingerbread had altered the outlook. Oak Park didn’t seem nearly so bad now and he thought that perhaps, after all, he might be able to stick it out. He mustn’t expect to make friends the first day. And ten minutes later there was a sound of noisy footsteps on the porch, and a wild rush up the stairs and Ned and Spud burst into the room.
“Where did you get to?” demanded Ned, throwing his cap at Cal and subsiding on his bed. “I looked everywhere for you. Spud said he’d seen you coming over this way, but I didn’t believe him. Spud’s such a cheerful liar, you know.”
“You’ll believe me next time,” said Spud resignedly. “Hello, what do I smell?” He sniffed the air knowingly. “Smells like—” But Ned had already sighted the gingerbread and fallen upon it.