It was not at all the sort of entrance he had mapped out. It would not do. He had got a wrong start.
Before Eleazer put in an appearance, he must right himself.
With a preliminary ahem, he hitched forward in the rocking chair.
"You won't mind if I go on with my baking, will you?" Marcia said, bustling toward the stove. "I'm makin' dried apple turnovers. They'll be done in a second and you shall have one."
"I thought I smelled pie crust," Elisha murmured vaguely.
"You thought right."
Kneeling, Marcia opened the door of the oven.
"Isn't that a sight for sore eyes?" inquired she as she drew out a pan of spicy brown pastries and placed them, hot and fragrant, on the table. "Now, I'll get you a plate, fork and some cheese."
"I don't need no fork," Elisha protested. "I can take it in my fingers."