XXWhen Mrs. Chapparelle left her kitchen and the white face pressed against the window-pane and hurried to answer the wheezy old door-bell, her only thought was to hurry and get back to her hot griddle. She knew it was almost smoking hot now, and she wanted to try a little batter to see if there was just the right amount of soda in it before Bessie came.
She glanced at the clock as she passed through the door. It was late for Bessie already. What could have kept her? But then she must have lingered longer at the library, for this was her holiday, and books were always such a temptation to her dear girl. How she wished she were able to buy more of them for her very own.
This would be Bessie, of course. She must have forgotten her key. Strange! Bessie never forgot things like that.
But it
