"I should say so!" gasped Gloriana. "We can't make them all to-night.

In fact, it is nearly four o'clock now. There isn't time for both pie and cake."

"Unless we do make gingerbread, as Janie suggested," said Tabitha slowly, seeing the look of disappointment clouding the row of round, serious faces watching them so expectantly.

"Wiv raisins," coaxed Rosslyn. "Lots of 'em!"

Instantly the faces brightened again. "Oh, yes, that's the way we like it best," chorused the four older members.

"And let us seed them," pleaded Inez. "Mamma often lets us."

"She won't let us eat more'n twelve," added Irene hopefully, "and we can work real fast."

"Well, you will have to if we have gingerbread for supper," said Gloriana. "I supposed the raisins were already seeded. Will we have time, Tabitha?"

"Yes, if everyone hustles, I reckon. Mercy, you know where things are in the pantry. Supposing you get out the spices, sugar, flour, and things. Susie and the twins stone the raisins; and, Rosslyn, you might bring in some small wood for the stove. We'll use the range to-night, because I have baked in that oven before and know how it works, but won't know until I experiment with it, how the gasolene oven bakes."

While she was issuing orders, Tabitha flaxed blithely about the little kitchen, lighting the fire, hunting up cooking utensils, and beginning the process of making chocolate pie, leaving Gloriana to wrestle with the mysteries of a raisin gingerbread.

Anxious for the coming treat, the children obediently flew to their various tasks; and soon voices buzzed busily, while the little hands tried their best to hurry.

"There!" breathed Tabitha at last, lifting a red, perspiring face from an inspection of two beautifully frosted pies in the oven, "they are done. Don't they look fine? Now you can put in your gingerbread whenever you are ready, Glory. I'll set these on the wash bench outside to cool, while I hustle up the rest of the supper."

"Mamma always puts her pies in the pantry window," volunteered Irene, not wishing to have the tempting delicacy removed from her sight.

"But they will cool quicker in the open air," explained Tabitha. "And supper will be ready so soon that they won't be cool enough to eat if we set them in the window. Now, Mercy----"

"Oh, Kitty," came a sudden wail of alarm from the dooryard where Rosslyn was still busy with his basket of chips, "Janie is gone! I can't find her anywhere!"

Tabitha dropped her platter of cold potatoes which she was preparing to warm over; Mercedes hastily left her dishpan where she was piling up the soiled kitchen utensils which the youthful cooks had used with extravagant hand; Susie and the twins abruptly deserted the raisin jar; and all bolted for the door.

Only Gloriana remained at her post. She had arrived at the most critical stage of her gingerbread making, and though her first impulse was to join in the search for the missing baby with the rest of her mates, her thrifty bringing-up reminded her that in the meantime the cake would spoil. So she paused long enough to dump in the cupful of raisins still standing on the doorsill, where the seeders had been sitting at their task. Giving the mixture a final beat, she poured the spicy brown dough into the baking sheet, thrust it into the oven, adjusted the dampers, and followed the example of the others, setting out down the rocky path as rapidly as her lameness would permit.

Meanwhile, toiling up the steep trail on the other side of the house, came a tiny, tired figure, almost ready to drop from her unusual exertions. Her dress was torn in a dozen places where the cruel mesquite had caught her as she pa.s.sed, one shoe was unlaced, one stocking hung in rolls about the plump, scratched ankle, she wore no hat, and her fair hair was sadly tousled by the wind and her struggle through sagebrush and Spanish bayonets. Altogether, she presented a woeful spectacle; but in spite of it all, she clasped tightly in one chubby fist, a soiled and crumpled letter, which every now and then she examined critically, having discovered that the warmth and moisture of her fat hands left tiny, smudgy fingerprints on the white envelope, and being anxious to present a clean doc.u.ment to her wondering audience when she should have reached her goal. But oh, it did seem so far up to the Eagles' Nest, and the way was so rough for her little feet!

Still she kept plodding wearily along, and at length reached the end of her journey, only to find the house silent and deserted.

"Mercy!" she piped shrilly, pushing open the screen and stumbling into the hot kitchen. "I'se dot a letter! Where is you? Susie! Rossie!"

Still no answer. Puzzled at this unusual state of affairs, she raced from room to room as fast as her short, tired legs would carry her, but no one was there.

"Tabby!" she shrieked. "Dory! What did you leave me for?"

A panic seized her. She had been deserted! Tears gathered in her sea-blue eyes, and trickled in rivulets down her flushed cheeks. She was afraid to stay alone. Why had everyone left her? Back to the kitchen she pattered. It was empty, but a fire still burned in the stove and savory odors from the oven lured her on. Curiosity overcame her fear for a moment, and with a mighty tug, she jerked open the door, revealing Gloriana's gingerbread just done to a turn.

"Dingerbread!" cried the child, gloating over the huge, golden sheet which smelled, oh, so good! "I want some now!" And forgetting that the oven was hot, she seized the pan with both chubby fists, but instantly let go her hold and roared with pain, for ten rosy fingers were cruelly burned, and how they did smart!

Suddenly above the wail of her l.u.s.ty voice came the sound of excited voices and flying feet; and the next instant frightened Tabitha with her adopted brood in close pursuit, flew into the kitchen, and gathered up the hurt, sobbing baby in her arms, crooning tenderly, "There, there, dearie, you mustn't cry any more. We've all come back. We were hunting you. Where did you go?"

"Oh, see her hands!" cried Irene, shuddering in sympathy. "She has burned herself!"

"But the gingerbread isn't burned at all," volunteered Susie with satisfaction, after a keen and anxious scrutiny of the spicy loaf half-way out of the oven.

"For goodness' sake!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Tabitha, not having noticed the seared fingers up to that moment, "What do you do for burns?"

"Bring some b.u.t.ter," ordered Gloriana, remembering Granny Conover's first remedy for burns.

"Mamma uses mola.s.ses," said Irene; and Susie and Inez, recovering their senses at the same instant, dived into the pantry, returning immediately, one with a crock of b.u.t.ter in her hand, and the other bearing a bucket of mola.s.ses; and before either of the older girls could intervene, they plunged both of Janie's dirty, scorched hands first into one dish and then into the other, leaving them to drip sticky puddles down the front of Tabitha's dress and on to the clean kitchen floor.

"Why, you little monkeys!" gasped the senior housekeeper, forgetting the dignity of her position in her wrath at what seemed inexcusable carelessness on the part of the girls.

"Mamma _always_ puts mola.s.ses on burns," quavered Inez, her lip trembling at Tabitha's tone.

"And Glory said b.u.t.ter," surprised Susie defended. Then both culprits dissolved in tears.

"There, there, never mind!" cried Tabitha in dismay. "I didn't mean to scold, but you ought to have known more than to stick the baby's dirty hands into the mola.s.ses pail and b.u.t.ter crock."

"Not dirty!" screamed the outraged Janie, striking the face above her with a dripping fist. "On'y burned! Ve pan was--" Her sentence unfinished, she found herself ruthlessly shaken and dumped into the middle of the floor, while angry Tabitha rushed out of the door into the cool dusk of early evening, leaving a dismayed family staring aghast at each other in the hot kitchen. Even the amazed baby forgot to voice her protest at such treatment, but stood where she had landed, staring with round, scared eyes after the fleeing figure.

Down the mountainside sped Tabitha to the big boulder, wheeled about and rushed back to the house as swiftly as she had left it, and before the astounded children had recovered their breath, she cried, "I am sorry I was cross. I reckon I'm a little tired and everything has gone upside down and--suppose we have supper now. I know you are all hungry. Susie, while I am tying up Janie's hands, you might put the potatoes on in the frying pan; Irene, set the table; Inez, fetch the water; and Mercy, cut the bread. Is the gingerbread done, Gloriana?"

"Yes," responded the junior housekeeper proudly, "and already sliced for the table. Shall I bring in the pie?"

"The pies!" shouted the six McKittricks.

"I had forgotten all about them," confessed the older girl. "Yes, you better get them right away. One will be enough for supper,--the tins are so large."

While Tabitha was speaking, Gloriana had stepped briskly out of the door into the summer night and disappeared around the corner of the house; but immediately a terrified scream pierced the air, there was a loud snort and the sound of startled, scampering feet, and Gloriana burst into the room again bearing an empty plate in one hand and a dilapidated looking pie, minus all its frosting, in the other.

"Oh, our lovely pies!" wailed the children in chorus.

"The burros!" gasped Tabitha.

Gloriana nodded. "One had his nose right in the middle of this pie.

The other beast had upset the second tin and was licking up the crumbs from the gravel."

"Oh, dear, I want some pie!" whimpered Rosslyn, puckering his face to cry.

"Ain't that the worst luck?" Susie burst out.

"If you had put the pies in the _window_ to cool, like mamma does--"

began Inez.

"It's too late to make any more to-night," Gloriana hastily interrupted, seeing a wrathful sparkle in Tabitha's black eyes; "but if you don't make any more fuss about it this time, we'll bake some to-morrow."

"And if you want any supper at all, you'd better come now," advised Mercedes, from her post by the stove, where she was vigorously making hash of the sliced potatoes. "This stuff is beginning to burn."

Gloriana rescued the frying pan, and the disappointed children gathered about the table, trying to look cheerful, but failing dismally.

"Don't want any 'tato," objected Janie, scorning the proffered dish.

"Dingerbread!"