Squire Blake knew nothing of this; neither did the teacher. The new and elegant building was located on the bank behind the schoolhouse, and as the windows that way let in the sun, the blinds were kept closed, and Miss Pike did not look out. If she had only looked out! But then perhaps she wouldn’t have thought much about it; for who would dream of little daughters of respectable parents bringing matches to school?
It might be very funny to light a fire on one’s own little hearth, and bake one’s own little biscuits for tea; but then it was certainly wrong. If it hadn’t been wrong, why didn’t the little girls tell of it at home? What made Flaxie seize a bunch of matches from the kitchen-shelf and hide them in her pocket? What made Milly snatch that piece of dough when Nancy’s back was turned, and run away with it so fast? Children are never sly, you know, when they are doing right.
If these biscuits turned out well, they were to bake some more to-morrow, and have what Johnny called a “house-warming,” and Freddy had partly promised some fish. But this was only the very first day of housekeeping, and they had invited nobody but Ada Blake to tea,—Ada and her dolls.
It seemed as if recess would never come that afternoon, and when it came it wasn’t “any longer than your little finger.” The fire was kindled the very first minute, the thimble-biscuits rolled out, and then the three children sat on the grass around their hearth to watch the baking. Seven dolls sat there too, with their party-dresses on, waiting very politely. There was a dictionary in the middle of the room for a table, with a pocket-handkerchief spread on it for a table-cloth, and Milly had set out all her best dishes there at noon, with a dot of butter, a pinch of sugar, and some bits of cake.
“I guess our oven is slow; they don’t bake much,” said Milly, peeping at the biscuits, which were placed in a row on a cabbage-leaf at a respectful distance from the fire.
“Let’s wish something while we’re waiting,” said hungry Flaxie, who had only snatched a very hurried dinner. “I wish this world was one big doughnut, with only us to eat it!”
“Pshaw!” sniffed Milly, “why didn’t you wish something good,—sponge-cake, with jelly between?”
“Wish yourself, Milly Allen, if you can do it so much better’n I can,” retorted Flaxie, putting another stick on the fire.
“Well, lemme see; I wish you and I were sisters, Flaxie Frizzle, and Ada was our aunt come from Boston.”
“Well there, Milly Allen, that isn’t half as nice as my doughnut! What’s the use to wish we were sisters, when we are twins now, and that’s almost as good?”