Jimmy, amazed and alarmed, gave it up at last.
“No use,” said he. “For shame, Lucy Dunlee!” and hid the “Fourth o’ July Washington-pie” behind a pan, there to dry in all its ugly roughness.
Vendla descried it that afternoon, and showed it to her mistress. Vendla was the new girl, a Swede, who had come after Molly was married.
Mrs. Dunlee summoned Jimmy-boy into the pantry, and pointed out to him something which looked like a huge mud-ball baked in the sun. It was the ruins of the Washington-pie. Jimmy was deeply mortified, but tried to defend himself.
“’Twas Lucy began it, mamma. True’s the world, ’twas Lucy! Boys don’t do such things. She pitched right in and spoiled it, or I wouldn’t ever ’a’ touched it.”
“James!” said his mother sternly.
“I only tried to smooth it off, mamma, so folks wouldn’t know folks had touched it. If Lucy”—
“So because Lucy had picked off some of the frosting, you must meddle with it too. And now you throw all the blame on your little sister! How shabby of you! Isn’t my boy any more manly than this?”
Jimmy hung his head. It was dreadful not to be a manly boy. He scowled at the cracks in the floor, and thoroughly despised himself.