"I hope they bring back
the sapolio," she said practically. "It was the only cake we had."
Betty paused half way to the kitchen and balanced her pile of dishes on
one hand. "Mollie," she cried in dismay, "they will never think of it!
Don't you think you had better go back and tell them, Frank?" she said.
"Sure!" he answered obligingly, while he sunk into an easy chair with a
sigh of content. Evidently he was settled for the evening.
"Then why don't you go?" Mollie demanded impatiently. "If boys aren't
the most aggravating things, when they want to be!" she added.
"There's plenty of time," Frank assured her calmly. "I left the fellows
in the first throes of cleaning up--they won't be through for half an
hour at least."
"Well, I don't care," said Betty, continuing her journeyings into the
kitchen. "If we haven't anything to scour the pans with, then they'll
not get scoured--that's all."
"That's the spirit I like to see," said Frank, and Betty could have
thrown something at him, with the greatest of pleasure. "It's fine to
see anybody resigned to the inevitable."
"Well, I know one thing," Mollie threatened, "if you don't go back in
five minutes, I will," and for emphasis she banged the salt cellar
forcibly upon the table.
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