"Find those cleaning-cloths I left in the hack room," ordered
Patty with a flashing eye. "Get some blocks, or bits of board, or
stones, for me to walk on, so that I can get out of your nasty
mess. Fill Bill Morrill's jug, quick, and set it out on the steps
for him to pick up. I don't know what you'd do without me to plan
for you! Lock the front door and hang father's sign that he's
gone to dinner on the doorknob. Scoop up all the molasses you can
with one of those new trowels on the counter. Scoop, and scrape,
and scoop, and scrape; then put a cloth on your oldest broom,
pour lots of water on, pail after pail, and swab! When you've
swabbed till it won't do any more good, then scrub! After that, I
shouldn't wonder if you had to fan the floor with a newspaper or
it'll never get dry before father comes home. I'll sit on the
flour barrel a little while and advise, but I can't stay long
because I'm going to a picnic. Hurry up and don't look as if you
were going to die any minute! It's no use crying over spilt
molasses. You don't suppose I'm going to tell any tales after
you've made me an offer of marriage, do you? I'm not so mean as
all that, though I may have my faults."
It was nearly two o'clock before the card announcing Deacon
Baxter's absence at dinner was removed from the front doorknob,
and when the store was finally reopened for business it was a
most dejected clerk who dealt out groceries to the public.
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