er that she
finished the pies off in the pantry and tucked all three into the
oven. Squatting on her feet in front of the door, she studied the dial
intently for a moment and hesitatingly pushed the draft just a crack
open. If it hadn't been for that momentary indecision, you might have
thought that she had been baking pies all her life. Then she began to
peel the potatoes.

[Illustration: "I'm getting dinner all by myself"]

So it was that Stannard found her. "Hello!" he said, with a grin.
"Busy?"

"Indeed, I am! I'm getting dinner all by myself."

He went through a pantomime of dodging a blow. "Whew-ee! Guess I'll
take to the woods."

"Better not. If you do, you will miss a good dinner. Mother Jess said
I might try it. Boiled potatoes and baked fish--she showed me how to
fix that--and corn and things. There's one other dish on my menu that
I'm not going to tell you." And all her dimples came into play.

"H'm!" said Stannard, "we feel pretty smart, don't we? Well, maybe
I'll stay and see how it pans out. A fellow can always tighten his
belt, you know."

"Aren't you horrid!" She made up a face at him, a captivating little
grimace that wrinkled her nose and set imps of mischief dancing in her
eyes.

Stannard watched her as with firm motions she stripped the husks from
the corn, picking off the clinging strands of silk daintily.

"Gee, Elliott!" he exclaimed. "Do you know, you're prettier than
ever!"

She dropped him a courtesy. "I must be, with a smooch of flour on my
nose and my hair every which way."

He grinned. "That's a story. Your hair looks as though Madame
What-'s-her-name, that you and Mater and the girls go to so much, had
just got through with you. I've never seen you when you didn't look as
though you had come out of a bandbox."

"Haven't you? Think again, Stan, think again! What about your Cousin
Elliott in a corn-field?"

Stannard slapped his thigh. "That's so, too! I forgot that. But your
hair's all to the good, even then."

"Stan," warned Elliott, "you'd better be careful. You will get in too
deep to wade out, if you don't watch your step. What are you getting
at, anyway? Why all these compliments?"

"Compliments! A fellow doesn't have to praise up his cousin, does he?
It just struck me, all of a sudden, that you look pretty fit."

"Thanks. I'm feeling as fit as I look. Out with it, Stan; what do you
want?"

"Why, nothing," said Stannard, "nothing at all. Shall I take out those
hu