"If we happen to be up, indeed," sniffed Betty, bustling around the
kitchen in a business-like fashion, sorting out pans and getting out the
flour, which Mollie's aunt had very thoughtfully left in the larder. "If
they talk like that much more, they won't get any of my biscuits. Just
wait till they smell them, girls--they will go down on their knees."
"Yes, the only way to manage boys is to feed them well," sighed Amy,
with a funny air of knowing all there was to be known about men.
"Oh, Amy! Amy!" gasped Mollie, "you will be the death of me yet. Anybody
would actually think, to hear you talk, that you had really had some
experience. Say, Betty," she added, regarding the doughy mixture--the
result of Betty's skillful manipulation, "that looks mighty
interesting--I shouldn't mind learning how to make them myself."
"Oh, it's lots of fun," Betty affirmed, cutting out the biscuits with an
improvised cutter--this last being the top of a baking powder can. "Only
take my advice," she went on, standing with the cover poised in the air
and speaking earnestly. "Don't try it on your family first--they never
appreciate you.
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