'Don't touch them, dearest!' cried Bell, snatching the plate from
under Elsie's very nose. 'I won't have you made ill by my failures.
But as for the boys, I don't care a fig for them. Let them make
flapjacks more to their taste, the odious things! Polly Oliver, did
you put in that baking powder, as I told you, while I went for the
pork?'
Polly blanched. 'Baking powder?' she faltered.
'Yes, baking powder! B-A-K-I-N-G P-O-W-D-E-R! Do I make myself
plain?'
'Oh, baking powder, to be sure. Well, now that you mention the
matter, I do remember that Dicky called me away just as I was getting
it; and now that I think of it, Elsie came just afterwards, and--and-
-'
'And that's the whole of my story, O,' sang Jack. 'I recommend the
criminal to the mercy of the court.'
'A case of too many cooks,' laughed Dr. Winship. 'Cheer up, girls;
better fortune next time.'
'There are eight more of them burning on the griddles this moment,
Polly,' said Bell, scathingly; 'and as they are yours, not mine, I
advise you to throw them in the brook, with the rest of the batter,
so that Hop Yet won't know that there has been a failure.'
'Some people blight everything they touch,' sighed Polly, gloomily,
as she departed for the kitchen.
'But when I lie in the green kirkyard -
'Oh, Polly, dear,' interrupted Margery, 'that apology will not serve
any longer; you've used it too often.'
'This is going to be entirely different,' continued Polly,
tragically.
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