y persuasive and Jack finally gave in. Little
Pierre came with them to carry the wood, he was told.

Jack opened up the house, carried in the baskets of provisions, and lit
a fire of blazing logs.

"I'll 'phone to you when I get in, and if you should need anything, or
if you feel lonely, ring up Mother in the meantime."

"I shan't have a minute to spare for feelings," declared Judith, "Pierre
and I have plenty to do."

She didn't quite realize how much was to be done when she watched Jack
drive off. The living-room to be swept and dusted--that would come
first--and no small task when one's arms and back are bruised and
aching; then to the kitchen, and judge of her dismay when on opening
the baskets she found that, though there were cakes and fruit and salad
stuff in plenty, of bread there was only one small loaf. Whatever
could--oh, here was a small bag of flour and a tin of baking powder.
Judith groaned as she remembered hearing Nancy tell Sally May that Mme.
Berthier was a splendid cook and had promised to make heaps of waffles
and hot biscuits for them to eat with their baked beans and salad.

Twenty hungry skaters appearing in an hour and one small loaf to feed
them! Judith had never made waffles, but she had made baking-powder
biscuits once or twice, though only, of course, in small quantities. Her
first thought was to walk to Mme. Berthier's cottage and ask for
directions. No, that wouldn't do--the precious hour would be gone. And
Nancy must _not_ be disappointed.

"Put on some more wood, Pierre, please. I want a good hot oven," she
called to her little helper, and then as he looked blank she tried first
her scanty stock of French words and then showed him what to do.

While she was thinking, she was rapidly unpacking the baskets and
setting the table, disregarding meanwhile the twinges of pain from her
hurt shoulders. At last everything was ready but the biscuits--she
couldn't remember, try as she might, the proportion of baking-powder and
flour and milk. A mistake would be such a tragedy! Then just as she had
decided to make three or four batches and hope that one or two might be
good, she suddenly thought of the telephone.

"Well, I am a silly, petit Pierre, now we'll be all right--Yes, Mrs.
Nairn, it's Judith--Jack will explain--please tell me how to make
biscuits!"

The explanation must have been easy to follow, for when Nancy and her
party arrived a little later three pans of beautifully browned fl