Tabithas Vacation | Page 7

Then her courage returned with a rush. "Why, Tabitha Catt, you coward! I am ashamed of you! If you can't take care of six children for two short weeks, particularly with Gloriana to help, you are not good for much!" Resolutely she turned toward the house, saying briskly, to hide her own wavering spirits, "Well, folkses, let's have chocolate pie for supper!"
"Oh, goody!" cried Inez, whirling about to follow her leader; and at mention of these words, the faces of the whole group brightened wonderfully.
"Can't we have some cake, too? Mamma said we might if you knew how to make it."
"Knew how to make it?" boasted Tabitha scornfully. "Well, I should say we do! What kind will you have?"
"Nut loaf," quickly responded Mercedes, who knew from experience how delicious Tabitha's nut loaves were.
"Angel cake," wheedled Susie, with her most engaging smile.
"Frosted with chocolate," added Inez.
"Devil's food," suggested Irene.
"Cookies," pleaded Rosslyn, who had a boy's fondness for that particular delicacy.
"Dingerbread," lisped the baby.
And Tabitha laughed. "That's quite a collection, my dears."
"I should say so!" gasped Gloriana. "We can't make them all to-night. In fact, it is nearly four o'clock now. There isn't time for both pie and cake."
"Unless we do make gingerbread, as Janie suggested," said Tabitha slowly, seeing the look of disappointment clouding the row of round, serious faces watching them so expectantly.
"Wiv raisins," coaxed Rosslyn. "Lots of 'em!"
Instantly the faces brightened again. "Oh, yes, that's the way we like it best," chorused the four older members.
"And let us seed them," pleaded Inez. "Mamma often lets us."
"She won't let us eat more'n twelve," added Irene hopefully, "and we can work real fast."
"Well, you will have to if we have gingerbread for supper," said Gloriana. "I supposed the raisins were already seeded. Will we have time, Tabitha?"
"Yes, if everyone hustles, I reckon. Mercy, you know where things are in the pantry. Supposing you get out the spices, sugar, flour, and things. Susie and the twins stone the raisins; and, Rosslyn, you might bring in some small wood for the stove. We'll use the range to-night, because I have baked in that oven before and know how it works, but won't know until I experiment with it, how the gasolene oven bakes."
While she was issuing orders, Tabitha flaxed blithely about the little kitchen, lighting the fire, hunting up cooking utensils, and beginning the process of making chocolate pie, leaving Gloriana to wrestle with the mysteries of a raisin gingerbread.
Anxious for the coming treat, the children obediently flew to their various tasks; and soon voices buzzed busily, while the little hands tried their best to hurry.
"There!" breathed Tabitha at last, lifting a red, perspiring face from an inspection of two beautifully frosted pies in the oven, "they are done. Don't they look fine? Now you can put in your gingerbread whenever you are ready, Glory. I'll set these on the wash bench outside to cool, while I hustle up the rest of the supper."
"Mamma always puts her pies in the pantry window," volunteered Irene, not wishing to have the tempting delicacy removed from her sight.
"But they will cool quicker in the open air," explained Tabitha. "And supper will be ready so soon that they won't be cool enough to eat if we set them in the window. Now, Mercy----"
"Oh, Kitty," came a sudden wail of alarm from the dooryard where Rosslyn was still busy with his basket of chips, "Janie is gone! I can't find her anywhere!"
Tabitha dropped her platter of cold potatoes which she was preparing to warm over; Mercedes hastily left her dishpan where she was piling up the soiled kitchen utensils which the youthful cooks had used with extravagant hand; Susie and the twins abruptly deserted the raisin jar; and all bolted for the door.
Only Gloriana remained at her post. She had arrived at the most critical stage of her gingerbread making, and though her first impulse was to join in the search for the missing baby with the rest of her mates, her thrifty bringing-up reminded her that in the meantime the cake would spoil. So she paused long enough to dump in the cupful of raisins still standing on the doorsill, where the seeders had been sitting at their task. Giving the mixture a final beat, she poured the spicy brown dough into the baking sheet, thrust it into the oven, adjusted the dampers, and followed the example of the others, setting out down the rocky path as rapidly as her lameness would permit.
Meanwhile, toiling up the steep trail on the other side of the house, came a tiny, tired figure, almost ready to drop from her unusual exertions. Her dress was torn in a dozen places where the cruel mesquite had caught her as she passed, one shoe was unlaced, one stocking hung in rolls about the