"Ask the
Wigginses to dinner to have a parsnip stew, and then--buy their own
parsnips for it!" she gasped.
Ruth did not laugh at all; she saw nothing but the seriousness of the
situation. "Mind you don't tell mother till after it's all over," said
she. "I don't want her to know where those parsnips came from till after
the Wigginses have gone, she'll be so upset. I'm just going to tell her
how I carried the honey over there, and how they're coming. I do hope
Ben will bring the parsnips before mother gets home."
"Suppose Ben should bring 'em in when mother was here," chuckled Serena.
"I told him to shy into the shed with 'em," replied Ruth, severely.
"Hush! father's coming, and we'd better not say anything to him till
afterwards."
Mrs. Whitman did not return until quite late; her married daughter Lucy
Ann and her teething baby did not generally release her in very good
season. When she came into the kitchen she found a great pan of parsnips
all washed and scraped, and heard the news how the Wigginses were over
their ill-tempers and were coming the next day. Mrs. Whitman dropped
into a chair, her large mild face beamed, and tears stood in her eyes.
"Well, I'm dreadful glad if we can patch it up," said she; "I never had
any fuss with any of my folks before in the world, and I hate to begin
now. I've always thought a good deal of the Wigginses." And her mouth
quivered.
Pages:
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152