But Carolyn May did not always keep out of mischief, for she was a very human little girl, after all was said and done. Especially was she prone to escapades when she was in the company of Freda Payne, her black-eyed school chum.
Trouble seemed to gravitate towards Freda. Not that she was intentionally naughty, but she was too active and too full of curiosity to lead a very placid existence. Wherever Freda was the storm clouds of trouble soon gathered.
Carolyn May and Freda were playing one Saturday afternoon in the long shed that connected the blacksmith shop with Mr. Lardner’s house, and Amos Bartlett was with them.
Carolyn May did not often play with little boys. She did not much approve of them. They often played roughly and it must be confessed that their hands almost always were grubby. But she rather pitied Amos Bartlett because he had been endowed with a nose so generous that the other children laughed at him and called him “Nosey.” He snuffled, and he talked nasally, which made Carolyn May shudder sometimes, but she was brave about it when in Amos’ company.
The three were playing in Mr. Hiram Lardner’s shed, which was half storeroom and half workshop. Back in a corner the inquisitive Freda found a great cask filled with something very yellow and foamy and delicious to look at.
“Oh, molasses, I do believe!” exclaimed Freda eagerly. “Don’t you s’pose it’s molasses, Car’lyn May? I just love molasses!”
Carolyn May was fond of syrup, too; and this barrelful certainly looked like the kind Aunty Rose sometimes put on the table for the griddle cakes. The little girl liked it better than she did maple syrup.
“I believe it is molasses,” she agreed.
“Here’s a tin cup to drink it with,” put in Amos.
“O-oh! Would you dare taste it, Car’lyn May?” cried Freda.