Here goes, anyway." And
she added a heaping spoonful.
The pudding was mixed, poured into a baking dish and set into the
oven.
"There," said Molly, with an air of relief, "that's done, all but
watching to see that it doesn't burn."
"And clearing up the table," sighed Polly. "It doesn't seem as if
we could have used so many dishes, just for one little pudding;
does it, Molly?"
"Never mind," said Molly consolingly; "when it's done, we shall
feel paid for it all. I don't mind washing dishes. You put the
sugar and stuff away, while I do them. I wish I felt sure about
this other starch," she added, taking up the paper and glancing at
it.
Polly's back was turned, when she heard an exclamation of horror.
Looking around, she saw Molly who, with the package still in
her hand, had dropped into a chair.
"What is it?" she asked anxiously.
"See here!" And Molly pointed solemnly to the label, then burst
into another fit of merriment, as she watched Polly's face grow
blank while she road aloud,--
"'Elastic Starch: Prepared for Laundry Purposes, only.'"
"Whatever do you suppose it will do to us?" asked Molly,
struggling to regain her self-control, and then laughing harder
than ever.
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