some on to the griddle, it rose like magic into a puffy flapjack that
made Demi’s mouth water. To be sure, the first one stuck and
scorched, because she forgot the butter, but after that first failure
all went well, and six capital little cakes were safely landed in a
dish.
“I think I like maple-syrup better than sugar,” said Demi, from his
arm-chair where he had settled himself after setting the table in a
new and peculiar manner.
“Then go and ask Asia for some,” answered Daisy, going into the
bath-room to wash her hands.
While the nursery was empty something dreadful happened. You
see, Kit had been feeling hurt all day because he had carried meat
safely and yet got none to pay him. He was not a bad dog, but he
had his little faults like the rest of us, and could not always resist
temptation. Happening to stroll into the nursery at that moment, he
smelt the cakes, saw them unguarded on the low table, and never
stopping to think of consequences, swallowed all six at one
mouthful. I am glad to say that they were very hot, and burned him
so badly that he could not repress a surprised yelp. Daisy heard it,
ran in, saw the empty dish, also the end of a yellow tail
disappearing under the bed. Without a word she seized that tail,
pulled out the thief, and shook him till his ears flapped wildly,
then bundled him down-stairs to the shed, where he spent a lonely
evening in the coal-bin.
Cheered by the sympathy which Demi gave her, Daisy made
another bowlful of batter, and fried a dozen cakes, which were
even better than the others. Indeed, Uncle Fritz after eating two
sent up word that he had never tasted any so nice, and every boy at
the table below envied Demi at the flapjack party above.
It was a truly delightful supper, for the little teapot lid only fell off
three times and the milk jug upset but once; the cakes floated in
syrup, and the toast had a delicious beef-steak flavor, owing to
cook’s using the gridiron to make it on. Demi forgot philosophy,
and stuffed like any carnal boy, while Daisy planned sumptuous
banquets, and the dolls looked on smiling affably.
“Well, dearies, have you had a good time?” asked Mrs. Jo, coming
up with Teddy on her shoulder.
“A very good time. I shall come again soon,” answered Demi, with
emphasis.
“I’m afraid you have eaten too much, by the look of that table.”
“No, I haven’t; I only ate fifteen cakes, and they were very little
ones,” protested Demi, who had kept his sister busy supplying his
plate.
“They won’t hurt him, they are so nice,” said Daisy, with such a
funny mixture of maternal fondness and housewifely pride that
Aunt Jo could only smile and say:
“Well, on the whole, the new game is a success then?”
“I like it,” said Demi, as if his approval was all that was necessary.
“It is the dearest play ever made!” cried Daisy, hugging her little
dish-tub as she proposed to wash up the cups. “I just wish
everybody had a sweet cooking stove like mine,” she added,
regarding it with affection.
“This play out to have a name,” said Demi, gravely removing the
syrup from his countenance with his tongue.
“It has.”
“Oh, what?” asked both children eagerly.
“Well, I think we will call it Pattypans,” and Aunt Jo retired,
satisfied with the success of her last trap to catch a sunbeam.
CHAPTER VI A FIRE BRAND
“Please, ma’am, could I speak to you? It is something very
important,” said Nat, popping his head in at the door of Mrs.
Bhaer’s room.
It was the fifth head which had popped in during the last half-hour;
but Mrs. Jo was used to it, so she looked up, and said, briskly,
“What is it, my lad?”
Nat came in, shut the door carefully behind him, and said in an
eager, anxious tone,
“Dan has come.”
“Who is Dan?”
“He’s a boy I used to know when I fiddled round the streets. He
sold papers, and he was kind to me, and I saw him the other day in