"What is it, Lize? Ice cream?"
For her face was wondrous sweet.
"Ice cream! How'd you s'pose I kep' that froze? No!" and the bewitching sparkle of her eye called up luscious ideas. I could almost see apricot preserves, pine apples, and honey-heart cherries floating in the air. But why was it a covered dish? "Somethin' nuff sight better 'n ice cream, but I shan't tell what."
"O, I wish you'd bring it to me in the covered dish, 'thout any party, for my mother won't let me have one, Lize, now truly."
"Then you can't have the—what I was goin' to bring," said Lize Jane, firmly.
"That's too bad," I cried; but it was of no use talking; she couldn't be moved any more than the gravel walk, or the asparagus bed.
"Your mother ain't much sick, is she?"
"Not now," replied I; "her strength is better."
"Well, then, why don't you ask some girls to come, and she'll get 'em some supper; see if she don't."
I was so shocked that I almost fell into a currant bush.