"It wouldn't," Jane agreed.
Ollie was scraping the plate. "Can't get any more out of that plate," he sighed at last; and he scaled the tin plate into an inaccessible place between the lilacs and the fence.
They moved away slowly. "I wonder," Jane remarked, reflectively, "who sent that pie."
Sally chuckled again. "Cousin Patty sent it," she said.
CHAPTER VIII[ToC]
Sally found that summer very full. To begin with, there was Dick's Class Day, which was her first great occasion. I do not know what better to call it and it must have been a great occasion for her, for, although it did not last very long,—days never do,—the memory of it has not completely faded even yet; and it was twelve years ago.
As if to make her joy complete, her mother had gone and Miss Patty had not. Not that Sally had ever the least conscious objection to Miss Patty's going anywhere, but Patty always acted as a sort of damper upon too much joy. Poor Patty! She had not the slightest wish to be a sort of a damper and she did not suspect that she was.