The Mary Frances Cook Book Part 5

"Yes, ma'am," said Mary Frances, not un-der-stand-ing the big word--"do you want me to call for it now?"

"Don't be saucy!" snapped the old lady.

Then she set about was.h.i.+ng the little girl's hands and face, rubbing so hard that it made the tears come, finis.h.i.+ng off with the towel until Mary Frances felt her face s.h.i.+ne.

"Wonder if she thinks I'm a stove," she thought. "Maybe she'll black me some day by mistake! I don't believe she knows how old I am--she treats me like a baby, for all the world sometimes, yet she thinks I ought to know more. Queer!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Wonder if she thinks I'm a stove."]

While Aunt Maria was busy getting dinner, she ran up to her mother's room.

"Mother," she asked, "Aunt Maria will be gone home most of the day time, while you're away, won't she?"

"Yes, dear," said Mother; "you and Brother are to go to her house to lunch."

"Mother, dear," begged Mary Frances, "can't I get lunch for Brother and me? I was going to tell you I read--I found the recipe for the Milk Toast in my little cook book you've been making for me. I came up and found it while you were asleep--I just know I can get our lunches.

Please, Mother, can't I try?"

"Well, dear," said Mother, smiling, "I really believe you may. I've just been thinking about the toast, and what a woman my dear little girl is."

Just then Aunt Maria called:

"Dinner!"

[Ill.u.s.tration]

[Ill.u.s.tration: Was.h.i.+ng the little girl's hands and face.]

CHAPTER VI

JACKET-BOILED POTATOES

"GOOD-BYE, Billy! Take good care of Sister. Good-bye, little Housekeeper!" said Mother, leaning from the car window. The children waved "good-bye," and watched the train until it was a speck in the distance.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Good-bye!"]

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Good-bye!" "Good-bye!"]

"I'm off to the mill-race, with the boys, Sister,--catch!" cried Billy, tossing Mary Frances the key.

"All right," she called, "be sure to come home to lunch--twelve o'clock."

Mary Frances suddenly felt very lonesome.

"But I'll go home to my Kitchen Folks--they'll be good company," she thought.

When she let herself into the house, how big and empty it seemed! She was almost afraid to go in, but she bravely locked the door behind her.

She thought she heard a noise. Surely the curtain moved! Her heart went pit-a-pat! The curtain moved again. Out sprang Jubey, and scampered off into the kitchen.

"Oh, you darling kitten!" she cried, running after her. "How you scared me, Jubey!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "How you scared me, Jubey!"]

Everything was as neat as a pin. All the Kitchen Folks were in their places, prim, and quiet, and scared, just as Aunt Maria had left them, but when they saw her they brightened up, and smiled a welcome.

"How do you do, Kitchen Folks?" she said.

"How do, little Miss?" merrily sang Tea Kettle.

"H-o-w d-o?" ticked Mantel Clock.

"What in the world shall I have for lunch?" mused the little girl. "That boy will be as hungry as two bears,--and I don't know many things to cook yet. Toast is all right for a sick person, but it isn't much for a hungry boy,--and I ought to make something new. Let me see what my little book says," and she fetched it out of its hiding place.

[Ill.u.s.tration: As hungry as two bears.]

"Oh, I know! I'll make everything! I do hope I get through the book before Mother comes back! Let's see,--here's 'How to Cook Potatoes,' and 'Eggs'; here are 'Biscuits,' and even how to make 'Tarts' and 'Cakes,'--and Goody! Candy! Oh, how I'd love to make candy right away, but Mother said I must make the things in the order they come in the book. So to-day I make

NO. 4.--JACKET-BOILED POTATOES.

1. Scrub rather small potatoes well.

2. Pare a ring around each the long way; drop into cold water.

3. Drain; cover with boiling water; add 1 tablespoon salt.

4. Let boil about 35 minutes, or until a fork will easily pierce the largest.

5. Drain off all the water, and set pan at back of stove to dry off the potatoes.

6. Serve in their jackets.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Jacket boiled potatoes]

"I wonder how many Billy will eat," she thought, as she brought the basket. "I guess about--about--I don't know. He has an e-nor-mous appet.i.te. I guess I'll cook a hundred."

"He'll never eat a hundred!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: "He'll never eat a hundred."]

Mary Frances looked around. Boiler Pan was climbing down from the closet shelf.

"h.e.l.lo! How do you know?" asked Mary Frances. "You never saw him eat."

"Hear that! Hear that!" cried Boiler Pan. "As though I hadn't cooked potatoes before you were born. Eat a hundred? Why, I can't hold a hundred--so there!"