"Two o'clock," she said.
"And in an hour would it be three? How many minutes was an hour? Did that jelly boil fast enough? Did jelly bake all hard in the little glass cups so you could eat it the same day—the same night for supper? Was there any cooked chicken in the house, with breastings in (stuffing)? Any sandiges? Why didn't Ruthie make sandiges? Do it very easy. Why didn't Ruthie make sailor-boy doughnuts? I could sprinkle the sugar on 'em, see 'f I couldn't."
In the midst of my troublesome chatter Abner came around to the kitchen door with the horse and wagon, saying he was going to mill, and would Tot like to go, too?
"Will you be back by three o'clock?" said I.
"Yes; it won't take me half an hour."
"I wonder what's the child's notion of watching the clock so snug," remarked Ruth, as I was darting into the parlor to ask if I might go to mill.
As I rode along with Abner, and felt the soft summer air blow on my face, and saw the friendly trees nodding "Good day," it seemed as if I had left trouble behind me. What was the use in going back to it? I had half a mind to run away.
"I didn't want to stay and see those little girls starve to death. No place but the 'dine-room' and the barn to play in! Be tied to the bed-post for it too! Ought to be! Wicked-bad-girl! But would mamma tie me any shorter if I staid away till the moon came up? And then the girls 'd be gone! Get away from Abner just 's easy! He'll be a talkin' to the man 'th flour on his coat, then he'll look round an' I'll be gone, an' he'll say, 'That child's "persest'"; he always says 'persest,' and then he'll go home and forget."
But stop a minute; what would the girls think?
"They'll think me very unagreeable to go off and leave my party. They'll call me a little lie-girl; they wont ask me to their house no more."