, I know--we had 'em in Sunday school," agreed Sunny absently. "Is
that my pie?"

"That's your pie, lambie," declared Grandma, smiling. "One, two, three
large ones, and a saucer pie for my own laddie. How much sugar shall I
put in for you, Sunny Boy?"

"A bushel," replied Sunny Boy confidently. "Let me shake the brown
powder, Grandma."

So Sunny Boy sprinkled in the cinnamon, and Grandma added dots of butter
and put on the crust. Then she cut little slits in it "so the apples can
breathe" and then that pie was ready for the oven.

"Now I'm going up to change my dress while they're baking," said Grandma,
taking off her apron. "If you want to stay here with Araminta, all right,
Sunny. I'll be back in time to take the pies out."

Araminta bustled about, washing the table top and putting away the salt
and sugar and spice box and all the things Grandma had used for her
baking. Sunny Boy ate his apple quietly and waited for Grandma to come
back.

"My land of Goshen!" Araminta stopped to peer out of the window over the
sink. "Here's company driving in. If it isn't Mrs. Lawyer Allen, and she
always stays till supper time! And your Grandma's pies not out of the
oven!"

Grandma, too, had seen the gray horse and buggy, and she hurried down in
her pretty black and white dress.

"Hook my collar, please, Araminta," she whispered. "And I am sure the
pies are done. You can take them out very carefully and set them where
they'll cool. You'll be good, won't you, lambie? There goes the
door-bell."

Grandma rustled away to meet her company, and Araminta opened the oven
door importantly. She was seldom trusted to take the pies from the oven
alone, and she felt very grown-up indeed to have Sunny Boy see her do it.
She got the three pies out nicely, and the little saucer pie, too, and
carried them into the pantry to cool. She set them on a shelf over the
flour barrel.

"Grandma puts them on the table," suggested Sunny Boy.

"Well, I put them on the shelf," said Araminta shortly. "I don't believe
in leaving pies around where any one can get 'em."

Now Araminta was in a hurry to go home, for it was three o'clock, and
every afternoon from three to five she was allowed to spend as she
pleased. So, though she made the kitchen nice and neat before she left,
in her hurry she forgot to put the lid on the flour barrel, something
Grandma always did.

"I'm going," said Araminta, putting on her hat with a jerk. "Mind you
don't get into