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"Was you, though?" "Yes. Mamma says she is 'clined to think it was the two whole bananas and the choc'late creams, but I think it was the fried potatoes. I was sick twice no, three times. Please, I asked you something. Are you the windmill man?" Jed, by this time very much amused, looked her over once more.
"Now, says I, for our ice cream an' cake, with white on top, an' choc'late." She gave a flirt of her ragged gown and darted here and there with her elfish movements; and presently a cold potato, shivering in its skin, a slice or two of hard, moldy bread, and some turnips and carrots, uncooked, were set about the dirty table, with empty spools in between.
Well, you just beat up an egg, and pour on the choc'late, boiling hot, stirring all the time, and you won't want any milk, Sir. That was what kept me alive aboard the Ranger." Now comes the story of the Ranger. He was getting in years, he said, and wanted a home for his old age; so he built him a boat. He put a little open stove in it, because an open fire felt kind o' comfortable to his toes.
Just then Fred, her favorite and only remaining brother, came dancing down the path and stopped, amazed before Molly's display of wealth. Somehow the "choc'late ca'amels" tasted sweeter again when she shared them with Fred, and she couldn't help saying, "Ain't they boolicious, Freddie?"
I seen her fussin' round the kitchen with choc'late frosted cake and some other contraptions, and from the size of the package I'd say she'd put most of 'em in. The question is: am I breakin' any regalations if I leave it? Just say the word, and I'll take it back home." "Not on your life!" said Teeny-bits fervently.
"Say, Miss Ellins," says I, after she'd squeezed herself into her place, pinned her feather lid up in front of her, and opened the choc'late creams, "I've been in such a dream I didn't look at the outside boards or get a programme. What's doin' variety or a tumpy-tump show?" "Why," says she, "this is Shakespeare's 'Romeo and Juliet." "Z-z-z-zing!" says I. "Stung again!
You don't see nothin' in the fact'ry. Say I feel like goin' to the movies, or treatin' myself to a ice-cream soda or a choc'late a-clair, why, I can do it without nobody's leave when I'm lucky. You ain't ever lucky in the fact'ry: you never have nothin', see? So I'd rather be me like I am than be me back in the fact'ry." "And do you always expect to be lucky?" Peter winced at the word.
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