"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 passed, 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 document 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 pl