"Go on, Molly," urged Polly, delighted that the tables were
turned, and Alan's failings to be brought to light.
"Well," resumed Molly, ignoring her brother's threatening glances;
"as soon as we turned the corner, coming home, we noticed a most
awful smell. It grew worse, the nearer we came to the house; and
then we saw the kitchen door wide open, and the smoke just pouring
out in streams." Molly's metaphors were becoming mixed, but the
girls never minded that, as she continued, "Mamma was dreadfully
frightened, for she thought the house was on fire. We rushed in,
and there was the meat frizzling away on the stove, and Alan so
excited that he was just hopping up and down and crying, and
letting it burn away, because he didn't dare take it off. It was
more than a week before the smoke was out of the house."
A gentle snore from Alan greeted the end of the story. He had
rolled over on his face, and was apparently sound asleep.
"There!" said Polly, with an accent of relief. "I'm glad we aren't
the only know-nothings in the world, Molly."
"The question is, how are we going to know something," said
Katharine thoughtfully.
"Let's turn our reading club into a cooking club," suggested
Jessie; "that is, if Mrs.
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