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_ "What's the matter, Daisy?"
"The boys won't let me play with them."
"Why not?"
"They say girls can't play football."
"They can, for I've done it!" and Mrs. Bhaer laughed at the
remembrance of certain youthful frolics.
"I know I can play; Demi and I used to, and have nice times, but he
won't let me now because the other boys laugh at him," and Daisy
looked deeply grieved at her brother's hardness of heart.
"On the whole, I think he is right, deary. It's all very well when you
two are alone, but it is too rough a game for you with a dozen
boys; so I'd find some nice little play for myself."
"I'm tired of playing alone!" and Daisy's tone was very mournful.
"I'll play with you by and by, but just now I must fly about and get
things ready for a trip into town. You shall go with me and see
mamma, and if you like you can stay with her."
"I should like to go and see her and Baby Josy, but I'd rather come
back, please. Demi would miss me, and I love to be here, Aunty."
"You can't get on without your Demi, can you?" and Aunt Jo
looked as if she quite understood the love of the little girl for her
only brother.
"'Course I can't; we're twins, and so we love each other more than
other people," answered Daisy, with a brightening face, for she
considered being a twin one of the highest honors she could ever
receive.
"Now, what will you do with your little self while I fly around?"
asked Mrs. Bhaer, who was whisking piles of linen into a
wardrobe with great rapidity.
"I don't know, I'm tired of dolls and things; I wish you'd make up a
new play for me, Aunty Jo," said Daisy, swinging listlessly on the
door.
"I shall have to think of a brand new one, and it will take me some
time; so suppose you go down and see what Asia has got for your
lunch," suggested Mrs. Bhaer, thinking that would be a good way
in which to dispose of the little hindrance for a time.
"Yes, I think I'd like that, if she isn't cross," and Daisy slowly
departed to the kitchen, where Asia, the black cook, reigned
undisturbed.
In five minutes, Daisy was back again, with a wide-awake face, a
bit of dough in her hand and a dab of flour on her little nose.
"Oh aunty! Please could I go and make gingersnaps and things?
Asia isn't cross, and she says I may, and it would be such fun,
please do," cried Daisy, all in one breath.
"Just the thing, go and welcome, make what you like, and stay as
long as you please," answered Mrs. Bhaer, much relieved, for
sometimes the one little girl was harder to amuse than the dozen
boys.
Daisy ran off, and while she worked, Aunt Jo racked her brain for
a new play. All of a sudden she seemed to have an idea, for she
smiled to herself, slammed the doors of the wardrobe, and walked
briskly away, saying, "I'll do it, if it's a possible thing!"
What it was no one found out that day, but Aunt Jo's eyes twinkled
so when she told Daisy she had thought of a new play, and was
going to buy it, that Daisy was much excited and asked questions
all the way into town, without getting answers that told her
anything. She was left at home to play with the new baby, and
delight her mother's eyes, while Aunt Jo went off shopping. When
she came back with all sorts of queer parcels in corners of the
carry-all, Daisy was so full of curiosity that she wanted to go back
to Plumfield at once. But her aunt would not be hurried, and made
a long call in mamma's room, sitting on the floor with baby in her
lap, making Mrs. Brooke laugh at the pranks of the boys, and all
sorts of droll nonsense.
How her aunt told the secret Daisy could not imagine, but her
mother evidently knew it, for she said, as she tied on the little
bonnet and kissed the rosy little face inside, "Be a good child, my
Daisy, and learn the nice new play aunty has got for you. It's a
most useful and interesting one, and it is very kind of her to play it
with you, because she does not like it very well herself."
This last speech made the two ladies laugh heartily, and increased
Daisy's bewilderment. As they drove away something rattled in the
back of the carriage.
"What's that?" asked Daisy, pricking up her ears.
"The new play," answered Mrs. Jo, solemnly.
"What is it made of?" cried Daisy.
"Iron, tin, wood, brass, sugar, salt, coal, and a hundred other
things."
"How strange! What color is it?"
"All sorts of colors."
"Is it large?"
"Part of it is, and a part isn't."
"Did I ever see one?"
"Ever so many, but never one so nice as this."
"Oh! what can it be? I can't wait. When shall I see it?" and Daisy
bounced up and down with impatience.
"To-morrow morning, after lessons."
"Is it for the boys, too?"
"No, all for you and Bess. The boys will like to see it, and want to
play one part of it. But you can do as you like about letting them."
"I'll let Demi, if he wants to."
"No fear that they won't all want to, especially Stuffy," and Mrs.
Bhaer's eyes twinkled more than ever as she patted a queer knobby
bundle in her lap.
"Let me feel just once," prayed Daisy.
"Not a feel; you'd guess in a minute and spoil the fun."
Daisy groaned and then smiled all over her face, for through a
little hole in the paper she caught a glimpse of something bright.
"How can I wait so long? Couldn't I see it today?"
"Oh dear, no! It has got to be arranged, and ever so many parts
fixed in their places. I promised Uncle Teddy that you shouldn't
see it till it was all in apple-pie order."
"If uncle knows about it then it must be splendid!" cried Daisy,
clapping her hands; for this kind, rich, jolly uncle of hers was as
good as a fairy godmother to the children, and was always
planning merry surprises, pretty gifts, and droll amusements for
them.
"Yes; Teddy went and bought it with me, and we had such fun in
the shop choosing the different parts. He would have everything
fine and large, and my little plan got regularly splendid when he
took hold. You must give him your very best kiss when he comes,
for he is the kindest uncle that ever went and bought a charming
little coo Bless me! I nearly told you what it was!" and Mrs. Bhaer
cut that most interesting word short off in the middle, and began to
look over her bills, as if afraid she would let the cat out of the bag
if she talked any more. Daisy folded her hands with an air of
resignation, and sat quite still trying to think what play had a "coo"
in it.
When they got home she eyed every bundle that was taken out, and
one large heavy one, which Franz took straight upstairs and hid in
the nursery, filled her with amazement and curiosity. Something
very mysterious went on up there that afternoon, for Franz was
hammering, and Asia trotting up and down, and Aunt Jo flying
around like a will-o'-the-wisp, with all sort of things under her
apron, while little Ted, who was the only child admitted, because
he couldn't talk plain, babbled and laughed, and tried to tell what
the "sumpin pitty" was.
All this made Daisy half-wild, and her excitement spread among
the boys, who quite overwhelmed Mother Bhaer with offers of
assistance, which she declined by quoting their own words to
Daisy:
"Girls can't play with boys. This is for Daisy, and Bess, and me, so
we don't want you." Whereupon the young gentlemen meekly
retired, and invited Daisy to a game of marbles, horse, football,
anything she liked, with a sudden warmth and politeness which
astonished her innocent little soul.
Thanks to these attentions, she got through the afternoon, went
early to bed, and next morning did her lessons with an energy
which made Uncle Fritz wish that a new game could be invented
every day. Quite a thrill pervaded the school-room when Daisy was
dismissed at eleven o'clock, for everyone knew that now she was
going to have the new and mysterious play.
Many eyes followed her as she ran away, and Demi's mind was so
distracted by this event that when Franz asked him where the
desert of Sahara was, he mournfully replied, "In the nursery," and
the whole school laughed at him.
"Aunt Jo, I've done all my lessons, and I can't wait one single
minute more!" cried Daisy, flying into Mrs. Bhaer's room.
"It's all ready, come on;" and tucking Ted under one arm, and her
workbasket under the other, Aunt Jo promptly led the way upstairs.
"I don't see anything," said Daisy, staring about her as she got
inside the nursery door.
"Do you hear anything?" asked Aunt Jo, catching Ted back by his
little frock as he was making straight for one side of the room.
Daisy did hear an odd crackling, and then a purry little sound as of
a kettle singing. These noises came from behind a curtain drawn
before a deep bay window. Daisy snatched it back, gave one
joyful, "Oh!" and then stood gazing with delight at what do you
think?
A wide seat ran round the three sides of the window; on one side
hung and stood all sorts of little pots and pans, gridirons and
skillets; on the other side a small dinner and tea set; and on the
middle part a cooking-stove. Not a tin one, that was of no use, but
a real iron stove, big enough to cook for a large family of very
hungry dolls. But the best of it was that a real fire burned in it, real
steam came out of the nose of the little tea-kettle, and the lid of the
little boiler actually danced a jig, the water inside bubbled so hard.
A pane of glass had been taken out and replaced by a sheet of tin,
with a hole for the small funnel, and real smoke went sailing away
outside so naturally, that it did one's heart good to see it. The box
of wood with a hod of charcoal stood near by; just above hung
dust-pan, brush and broom; a little market basket was on the low
table at which Daisy used to play, and over the back of her little
chair hung a white apron with a bib, and a droll mob cap. The sun
shone in as if he enjoyed the fun, the little stove roared beautifully,
the kettle steamed, the new tins sparkled on the walls, the pretty
china stood in tempting rows, and it was altogether as cheery and
complete a kitchen as any child could desire.
Daisy stood quite still after the first glad "Oh!" but her eyes went
quickly from one charming object to another, brightening as they
looked, till they came to Aunt Jo's merry face; there they stopped
as the happy little girl hugged her, saying gratefully:
"Oh aunty, it's a splendid new play! Can I really cook at the dear
stove, and have parties and mess, and sweep, and make fires that
truly burn? I like it so much! What made you think of it?"
"Your liking to make gingersnaps with Asia made me think of it,"
said Mrs. Bhaer, holding Daisy, who frisked as if she would fly. "I
knew Asia wouldn't let you mess in her kitchen very often, and it
wouldn't be safe at this fire up here, so I thought I'd see if I could
find a little stove for you, and teach you to cook; that would be
fun, and useful too. So I travelled round among the toy shops, but
everything large cost too much and I was thinking I should have to
give it up, when I met Uncle Teddy. As soon as he knew what I
was about, he said he wanted to help, and insisted on buying the
biggest toy stove we could find. I scolded, but he only laughed, and
teased me about my cooking when we were young, and said I must
teach Bess as well as you, and went on buying all sorts of nice
little things for my 'cooking class' as he called it."
"I'm so glad you met him!" said Daisy, as Mrs. Jo stopped to laugh
at the memory of the funny time she had with Uncle Teddy.
"You must study hard and learn to make all kinds of things, for he
says he shall come out to tea very often, and expects something
uncommonly nice."
"It's the sweetest, dearest kitchen in the world, and I'd rather study
with it than do anything else. Can't I learn pies, and cake, and
macaroni, and everything?" cried Daisy, dancing round the room
with a new saucepan in one hand and the tiny poker in the other.
"All in good time. This is to be a useful play, I am to help you, and
you are to be my cook, so I shall tell you what to do, and show you
how. Then we shall have things fit to eat, and you will be really
learning how to cook on a small scale. I'll call you Sally, and say
you are a new girl just come," added Mrs. Jo, settling down to
work, while Teddy sat on the floor sucking his thumb, and staring
at the stove as if it was a live thing, whose appearance deeply
interested him.
"That will be so lovely! What shall I do first?" asked Sally, with
such a happy face and willing air that Aunt Jo wished all new
cooks were half as pretty and pleasant.
"First of all, put on this clean cap and apron. I am rather
old-fashioned, and I like my cook to be very tidy."
Sally tucked her curly hair into the round cap, and put on the apron
without a murmur, though usually she rebelled against bibs.
"Now, you can put things in order, and wash up the new china. The
old set needs washing also, for my last girl was apt to leave it in a
sad state after a party."
Aunt Jo spoke quite soberly, but Sally laughed, for she knew who
the untidy girl was who had left the cups sticky. Then she turned
up her cuffs, and with a sigh of satisfaction began to stir about her
kitchen, having little raptures now and then over the "sweet rolling
pin," the "darling dish-tub," or the "cunning pepper-pot."
"Now, Sally, take your basket and go to market; here is the list of
things I want for dinner," said Mrs. Jo, giving her a bit of paper
when the dishes were all in order.
"Where is the market?" asked Daisy, thinking that the new play got
more and more interesting every minute.
"Asia is the market."
Away went Sally, causing another stir in the schoolroom as she
passed the door in her new costume, and whispered to Demi, with
a face full of delight, "It's a perfectly splendid play!"
Old Asia enjoyed the joke as much as Daisy, and laughed jollily as
the little girl came flying into the room with her cap all on one
side, the lids of her basket rattling like castanets and looking like a
very crazy little cook.
"Mrs. Aunt Jo wants these things, and I must have them right
away," said Daisy, importantly.
'Let's see, honey; here's two pounds of steak, potatoes, squash,
apples, bread, and butter. The meat ain't come yet; when it does I'll
send it up. The other things are all handy."
Then Asia packed one potato, one apple, a bit of squash, a little pat
of butter, and a roll, into the basket, telling Sally to be on the
watch for the butcher's boy, because he sometimes played tricks.
"Who is he?" and Daisy hoped it would be Demi.
"You'll see," was all Asia would say; and Sally went off in great
spirits, singing a verse from dear Mary Howitt's sweet story in
rhyme:
"Away went little Mabel,
With the wheaten cake so fine,
The new-made pot of butter,
And the little flask of wine."
"Put everything but the apple into the store-closet for the present,"
said Mrs. Jo, when the cook got home.
There was a cupboard under the middle shelf, and on opening the
door fresh delights appeared. One half was evidently the cellar, for
wood, coal, and kindlings were piled there. The other half was full
of little jars, boxes, and all sorts of droll contrivances for holding
small quantities of flour, meal, sugar, salt, and other household
stores. A pot of jam was there, a little tin box of gingerbread, a
cologne bottle full of currant wine, and a tiny canister of tea. But
the crowning charm was two doll's pans of new milk, with cream
actually rising on it, and a wee skimmer all ready to skim it with.
Daisy clasped her hands at this delicious spectacle, and wanted to
skim it immediately. But Aunt Jo said:
"Not yet; you will want the cream to eat on your apple pie at
dinner, and must not disturb it till then."
"Am I going to have pie?" cried Daisy, hardly believing that such
bliss could be in store for her.
"Yes; if your oven does well we will have two pies, one apple and
one strawberry," said Mrs. Jo, who was nearly as much interested
in the new play as Daisy herself.
"Oh, what next?" asked Sally, all impatience to begin.
"Shut the lower draught of the stove, so that the oven may heat.
Then wash your hands and get out the flour, sugar, salt, butter, and
cinnamon. See if the pie-board is clean, and pare your apple ready
to put in."
Daisy got things together with as little noise and spilling as could
be expected, from so young a cook.
"I really don't know how to measure for such tiny pies; I must
guess at it, and if these don't succeed, we must try again," said
Mrs. Jo, looking rather perplexed, and very much amused with the
small concern before her. "Take that little pan full of flour, put in a
pinch of salt, and then rub in as much butter as will go on that
plate. Always remember to put your dry things together first, and
then the wet. It mixes better so."
"I know how; I saw Asia do it. Don't I butter the pie plates too?
She did, the first thing," said Daisy, whisking the flour about at a
great rate.
"Quite right! I do believe you have a gift for cooking, you take to it
so cleverly," said Aunt Jo, approvingly. "Now a dash of cold water,
just enough to wet it; then scatter some flour on the board, work in
a little, and roll the paste out; yes, that's the way. Now put dabs of
butter all over it, and roll it out again. We won't have our pastry
very rich, or the dolls will get dyspeptic."
Daisy laughed at the idea, and scattered the dabs with a liberal
hand. Then she rolled and rolled with her delightful little pin, and
having got her paste ready proceeded to cover the plates with it.
Next the apple was sliced in, sugar and cinnamon lavishly
sprinkled over it, and then the top crust put on with breathless
care.
"I always wanted to cut them round, and Asia never would let me.
How nice it is to do it all my ownty donty self!" said Daisy, as the
little knife went clipping round the doll's plate poised on her hand.
All cooks, even the best, meet with mishaps sometimes, and Sally's
first one occurred then, for the knife went so fast that the plate
slipped, turned a somersault in the air, and landed the dear little
pie upside down on the floor. Sally screamed, Mrs. Jo laughed,
Teddy scrambled to get it, and for a moment confusion reigned in
the new kitchen.
"It didn't spill or break, because I pinched the edges together so
hard; it isn't hurt a bit, so I'll prick holes in it, and then it will be
ready," said Sally, picking up the capsized treasure and putting it
into shape with a child-like disregard of the dust it had gathered in
its fall.
"My new cook has a good temper, I see, and that is such a
comfort," said Mrs. Jo. "Now open the jar of strawberry jam, fill
the uncovered pie, and put some strips of paste over the top as
Asia does."
"I'll make a D in the middle, and have zigzags all round, that will
be so interesting when I come to eat it," said Sally, loading the pie
with quirls and flourishes that would have driven a real pastry
cook wild. "Now I put them in!" she exclaimed; when the last
grimy knob had been carefully planted in the red field of jam, and
with an air of triumph she shut them into the little oven.
"Clear up your things; a good cook never lets her utensils collect.
Then pare your squash and potatoes."
"There is only one potato," giggled Sally.
"Cut it in four pieces, so it will go into the little kettle, and put the
bits into cold water till it is time to cook them."
"Do I soak the squash too?"
"No, indeed! Just pare it and cut it up, and put in into the steamer
over the pot. It is drier so, though it takes longer to cook."
Here a scratching at the door caused Sally to run and open it, when
Kit appeared with a covered basket in his mouth.
"Here's the butcher boy!" cried Daisy, much tickled at the idea, as
she relieved him of his load, whereat he licked his lips and began
to beg, evidently thinking that it was his own dinner, for he often
carried it to his master in that way. Being undeceived, he departed
in great wrath and barked all the way downstairs, to ease his
wounded feelings.
In the basket were two bits of steak (doll's pounds), a baked pear, a
small cake, and paper with them on which Asia had scrawled, "For
Missy's lunch, if her cookin' don't turn out well."
"I don't want any of her old pears and things; my cooking will turn
out well, and I'll have a splendid dinner; see if I don't!" cried
Daisy, indignantly.
"We may like them if company should come. It is always well to
have something in the storeroom," said Aunt Jo, who had been
taught this valuable fact by a series of domestic panics.
"Me is hundry," announced Teddy, who began to think what with
so much cooking going on it was about time for somebody to eat
something. His mother gave him her workbasket to rummage,
hoping to keep him quiet till dinner was ready, and returned to her
housekeeping.
"Put on your vegetables, set the table, and then have some coals
kindling ready for the steak."
What a thing it was to see the potatoes bobbing about in the little
pot; to peep at the squash getting soft so fast in the tiny steamer; to
whisk open the oven door every five minutes to see how the pies
got on, and at last when the coals were red and glowing, to put two
real steaks on a finger-long gridiron and proudly turn them with a
fork. The potatoes were done first, and no wonder, for they had
boiled frantically all the while. The were pounded up with a little
pestle, had much butter and no salt put in (cook forgot it in the
excitement of the moment), then it was made into a mound in a
gay red dish, smoothed over with a knife dipped in milk, and put in
the oven to brown.
So absorbed in these last performances had Sally been, that she
forgot her pastry till she opened the door to put in the potato, then
a wail arose, for alas! alas! the little pies were burnt black!
"Oh, my pies! My darling pies! They are all spoilt!" cried poor
Sally, wringing her dirty little hands as she surveyed the ruin of her
work. The tart was especially pathetic, for the quirls and zigzags
stuck up in all directions from the blackened jelly, like the walls
and chimney of a house after a fire.
"Dear, dear, I forgot to remind you to take them out; it's just my
luck," said Aunt Jo, remorsefully. "Don't cry, darling, it was my
fault; we'll try again after dinner," she added, as a great tear
dropped from Sally's eyes and sizzled on the hot ruins of the tart.
More would have followed, if the steak had not blazed up just
then, and so occupied the attention of cook, that she quickly forgot
the lost pastry.
"Put the meat-dish and your own plates down to warm, while you
mash the squash with butter, salt, and a little pepper on the top,"
said Mrs. Jo, devoutly hoping that the dinner would meet with no
further disasters.
The "cunning pepper-pot" soothed Sally's feelings, and she dished
up her squash in fine style. The dinner was safely put upon the
table; the six dolls were seated three on a side; Teddy took the
bottom, and Sally the top. When all were settled, it was a most
imposing spectacle, for one doll was in full ball costume, another
in her night-gown; Jerry, the worsted boy, wore his red winter suit,
while Annabella, the noseless darling, was airily attired in nothing
but her own kid skin. Teddy, as father of the family, behaved with
great propriety, for he smilingly devoured everything offered him,
and did not find a single fault. Daisy beamed upon her company
like the weary, warm, but hospitable hostess so often to be seen at
larger tables than this, and did the honors with an air of innocent
satisfaction, which we do not often see elsewhere.
The steak was so tough that the little carving-knife would not cut
it; the potato did not go round, and the squash was very lumpy; but
the guests appeared politely unconscious of these trifles; and the
master and mistress of the house cleared the table with appetites
that anyone might envy them. The joy of skimming a jug-full of
cream mitigated the anguish felt for the loss of the pies, and Asia's
despised cake proved a treasure in the way of dessert.
"That is the nicest lunch I ever had; can't I do it every day?" asked
Daisy as she scraped up and ate the leavings all round.
"You can cook things every day after lessons, but I prefer that you
should eat your dishes at your regular meals, and only have a bit of
gingerbread for lunch. To-day, being the first time, I don't mind,
but we must keep our rules. This afternoon you can make
something for tea if you like," said Mrs. Jo, who had enjoyed the
dinner-party very much, though no one had invited her to partake.
"Do let me make flapjacks for Demi, he loves them so, and it's
such fun to turn them and put sugar in between," cried Daisy,
tenderly wiping a yellow stain off Annabella's broken nose, for
Bella had refused to eat squash when it was pressed upon her as
good for "lumatism," a complaint which it is no wonder she
suffered from, considering the lightness of her attire.
"But if you give Demi goodies, all the others will expect some
also, and then you will have your hands full."
"Couldn't I have Demi come up to tea alone just this one time?
And after that I could cook things for the others if they were
good," proposed Daisy, with a sudden inspiration.
"That is a capital idea, Posy! We will make your little messes
rewards for the good boys, and I don't know one among them who
would not like something nice to eat more than almost anything
else. If little men are like big ones, good cooking will touch their
hearts and soothe their tempers delightfully," added Aunt Jo, with
a merry nod toward the door, where stood Papa Bhaer, surveying
the scene with a face full of amusement.
"That last hit was for me, sharp woman. I accept it, for it is true;
but if I had married thee for thy cooking, heart's dearest, I should
have fared badly all these years," answered the professor, laughing
as he tossed Teddy, who became quite apoplectic in his endeavors
to describe the feast he had just enjoyed.
Daisy proudly showed her kitchen, and rashly promised Uncle
Fritz as many flapjacks as he could eat. She was just telling about
the new rewards when the boys, headed by Demi, burst into the
room snuffing the air like a pack of hungry hounds, for school was
out, dinner was not ready, and the fragrance of Daisy's steak led
them straight to the spot.
A prouder little damsel was never seen than Sally as she displayed
her treasures and told the lads what was in store for them. Several
rather scoffed at the idea of her cooking anything fit to eat, but
Stuffy's heart was won at once. Nat and Demi had firm faith in her
skill, and the others said they would wait and see. All admired the
kitchen, however, and examined the stove with deep interest.
Demi offered to buy the boiler on the spot, to be used in a
steam-engine which he was constructing; and Ned declared that
the best and biggest saucepan was just the thing to melt his lead in
when he ran bullets, hatchets, and such trifles.
Daisy looked so alarmed at these proposals, that Mrs. Jo then and
there made and proclaimed a law that no boy should touch, use, or
even approach the sacred stove without a special permit from the
owner thereof. This increased its value immensely in the eyes of
the gentlemen, especially as any infringement of the law would be
punished by forfeiture of all right to partake of the delicacies
promised to the virtuous.
At this point the bell rang, and the entire population went down to
dinner, which meal was enlivened by each of the boys giving
Daisy a list of things he would like to have cooked for him as fast
as he earned them. Daisy, whose faith in her stove was unlimited,
promised everything, if Aunt Jo would tell her how to make them.
This suggestion rather alarmed Mrs. Jo, for some of the dishes
were quite beyond her skill wedding-cake, for instance, bull's-eye
candy; and cabbage soup with herrings and cherries in it, which
Mr. Bhaer proposed as his favorite, and immediately reduced his
wife to despair, for German cookery was beyond her.
Daisy wanted to begin again the minute dinner was done, but she
was only allowed to clear up, fill the kettle ready for tea, and wash
out her apron, which looked as if she had a Christmas feast. She
was then sent out to play till five o'clock, for Uncle Fritz said that
too much study, even at cooking stoves, was bad for little minds
and bodies, and Aunt Jo knew by long experience how soon new
toys lose their charm if they are not prudently used.
Everyone was very kind to Daisy that afternoon. Tommy promised
her the first fruits of his garden, though the only visible crop just
then was pigweed; Nat offered to supply her with wood, free of
charge; Stuffy quite worshipped her; Ned immediately fell to work
on a little refrigerator for her kitchen; and Demi, with a
punctuality beautiful to see in one so young, escorted her to the
nursery just as the clock struck five. It was not time for the party to
begin, but he begged so hard to come in and help that he was
allowed privileges few visitors enjoy, for he kindled the fire, ran
errands, and watched the progress of his supper with intense
interest. Mrs. Jo directed the affair as she came and went, being
very busy putting up clean curtains all over the house.
"Ask Asia for a cup of sour cream, then your cakes will be light
without much soda, which I don't like," was the first order.
Demi tore downstairs, and returned with the cream, also a
puckered-up face, for he had tasted it on his way, and found it so
sour that he predicted the cakes would be uneatable. Mrs. Jo took
this occasion to deliver a short lecture from the step-ladder on the
chemical properties of soda, to which Daisy did not listen, but
Demi did, and understood it, as he proved by the brief but
comprehensive reply:
"Yes, I see, soda turns sour things sweet, and the fizzling up makes
them light. Let's see you do it, Daisy."
"Fill that bowl nearly full of flour and add a little salt to it,"
continued Mrs. Jo.
"Oh dear, everything has to have salt in it, seems to me," said
Sally, who was tired of opening the pill-box in which it was kept.
"Salt is like good-humor, and nearly every thing is better for a
pinch of it, Posy," and Uncle Fritz stopped as he passed, hammer
in hand, to drive up two or three nails for Sally's little pans to hang
on.
"You are not invited to tea, but I'll give you some cakes, and I
won't be cross," said Daisy, putting up her floury little face to
thank him with a kiss.
"Fritz, you must not interrupt my cooking class, or I'll come in and
moralize when you are teaching Latin. How would you like that?"
said Mrs. Jo, throwing a great chintz curtain down on his head.
"Very much, try it and see," and the amiable Father Bhaer went
singing and tapping about the house like a mammoth woodpecker.
"Put the soda into the cream, and when it 'fizzles,' as Demi says,
stir it into the flour, and beat it up as hard as ever you can. Have
your griddle hot, butter it well, and then fry away till I come back,"
and Aunt Jo vanished also.
Such a clatter as the little spoon made, and such a beating as the
batter got, it quite foamed, I assure you; and when Daisy poured
some on to the griddle, it rose like magic into a puffy flapjack that
made Demi's mouth water. To be sure, the first one stuck and
scorched, because she forgot the butter, but after that first failure
all went well, and six capital little cakes were safely landed in a
dish.
"I think I like maple-syrup better than sugar," said Demi, from his
arm-chair where he had settled himself after setting the table in a
new and peculiar manner.
"Then go and ask Asia for some," answered Daisy, going into the
bath-room to wash her hands.
While the nursery was empty something dreadful happened. You
see, Kit had been feeling hurt all day because he had carried meat
safely and yet got none to pay him. He was not a bad dog, but he
had his little faults like the rest of us, and could not always resist
temptation. Happening to stroll into the nursery at that moment, he
smelt the cakes, saw them unguarded on the low table, and never
stopping to think of consequences, swallowed all six at one
mouthful. I am glad to say that they were very hot, and burned him
so badly that he could not repress a surprised yelp. Daisy heard it,
ran in, saw the empty dish, also the end of a yellow tail
disappearing under the bed. Without a word she seized that tail,
pulled out the thief, and shook him till his ears flapped wildly,
then bundled him down-stairs to the shed, where he spent a lonely
evening in the coal-bin.
Cheered by the sympathy which Demi gave her, Daisy made
another bowlful of batter, and fried a dozen cakes, which were
even better than the others. Indeed, Uncle Fritz after eating two
sent up word that he had never tasted any so nice, and every boy at
the table below envied Demi at the flapjack party above.
It was a truly delightful supper, for the little teapot lid only fell off
three times and the milk jug upset but once; the cakes floated in
syrup, and the toast had a delicious beef-steak flavor, owing to
cook's using the gridiron to make it on. Demi forgot philosophy,
and stuffed like any carnal boy, while Daisy planned sumptuous
banquets, and the dolls looked on smiling affably.
"Well, dearies, have you had a good time?" asked Mrs. Jo, coming
up with Teddy on her shoulder.
"A very good time. I shall come again soon," answered Demi, with
emphasis.
"I'm afraid you have eaten too much, by the look of that table."
"No, I haven't; I only ate fifteen cakes, and they were very little
ones," protested Demi, who had kept his sister busy supplying his
plate.
"They won't hurt him, they are so nice," said Daisy, with such a
funny mixture of maternal fondness and housewifely pride that
Aunt Jo could only smile and say:
"Well, on the whole, the new game is a success then?"
"I like it," said Demi, as if his approval was all that was necessary.
"It is the dearest play ever made!" cried Daisy, hugging her little
dish-tub as she proposed to wash up the cups. "I just wish
everybody had a sweet cooking stove like mine," she added,
regarding it with affection.
"This play out to have a name," said Demi, gravely removing the
syrup from his countenance with his tongue.
"It has."
"Oh, what?" asked both children eagerly.
"Well, I think we will call it Pattypans," and Aunt Jo retired,
satisfied with the success of her last trap to catch a sunbeam. _
Read next: CHAPTER VI. A FIRE BRAND
Read previous: CHAPTER IV. STEPPING-STONES
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