covered any deficiency of enthusiasm
in another. Elliott found herself trailing Priscilla through the barns
and even out to see the pigs, meeting Ferdinand Foch, the very new
colt, and Kitchener of Khartoum, who had been a new colt three years
before, and almost holding hands with the "black-and-whitey" calf,
which Priscilla had very nearly decided to call General Pershing. And
didn't Elliott think that would be a nice name, with "J.J." for short?
Elliott had barely delivered herself of a somewhat amused affirmative
(though the amusement she knew enough to conceal), when the small
tongue tripped into the pigs' roster. Every animal on the farm seemed
to have a name and a personality. Priscilla detailed characteristics
quite as though their possessors were human.

It was an enlightened but somewhat surfeited cousin whom Priscilla
blissfully escorted into the summer kitchen, a big latticed space
filled with the pleasant odors of currant jelly. On the broad table
stood trays of ruby-filled glasses.

"We've seen all the creatures," Priscilla announced jubilantly "and
she loves 'em. Oh, the jelly's done, isn't it? Mumsie, may we scrape
the kettle?"

Aunt Jessica laughed. "Elliott may not care to scrape kettles."

Priscilla opened her eyes wide at the absurdity of the suggestion.
"You do, don't you? You must! Everybody does. Just wait a minute till
I get spoons."

"I don't think I quite know how to do it," said Elliott.

The next minute a teaspoon was thrust into her hand. "Didn't you
_ever_?" Priscilla's voice was both aghast and pitying. "It wastes a
lot, not scraping kettles. Good as candy, too. Here, you begin." She
pushed a preserving-kettle forward hospitably.

Elliott hesitated.

"_I'll_ show you." The small hand shot in, scraped vigorously for a
minute, and withdrew, the spoon heaped with ruddy jelly. "There!
Mother didn't leave as much as usual, though. I 'spect it's 'cause
sugar's so scarce. She thought she must put it all into the glasses.
But there's always something you can scrape up."

"It is delicious," said Elliott, graciously; "and what a lovely
color!"

Priscilla beamed. "You may have two scrapes to my one, because you
have so much time to make up."

"You generous little soul! I couldn't think of doing that. We will
take our 'scrapes' together."

Priscilla teetered a little on her toes. "I like you," she said. "I
like you a whole lot. I'd hug you if my hands weren't sticky. Scraping
kettles m