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<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> <div class='chaptertitle'>A JOKE ON AUNT MARIA</div> <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/i073a.jpg" width-obs="115" height-obs="219" alt=""I'd like to know why not"" title="" /></div> <div class='cap'>"OH, hum-m-m! O, yah, yah, yah," yawned Tea Kettle next morning, stretching his funny little arms. "Oh, I say," he shouted, "Wake up! We've overslept. Wake up, everybody! Where's our little mistress, I wonder?"</div> <p>"Nice memory,—yours!" drawled Sauce Pan. "Don't you remember they all went over to Aunt Maria Hush's for dinner Saturday night, and for Sunday?"</p> <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/i073b.jpg" width-obs="413" height-obs="191" alt=""Oh, hum-m-m! O, yah, yah, yah."" title="" /></div> <p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</SPAN></span></p> <p>"Aunt Maria Hush!" roared Tea Kettle. "That's not her name!"</p> <p>"I'd like to know why not," said Sauce Pan. "Every time I go to say anything when she's here, somebody says, 'Keep still—that's Aunt Maria,—Hush!"</p> <p>"Ho, ho, ho, hee-hee-hee!" laughed all the Kitchen People.</p> <p>"That meant, 'Be still,' Goosie," Tea Kettle explained.</p> <div> <ANTIMG src="images/i074b.jpg" alt="chimney" width-obs="108" height-obs="510" class="splitr" /> <ANTIMG src="images/i074a.jpg" alt="aunt and stove" width-obs="546" height-obs="196" class="splitr" /></div> <p>When Aunt Maria and Mary Frances came into the kitchen later, the old lady was talking.</p> <p>"Very creditable, child," she said, looking at the shelves, all in order, "very creditable indeed. I can't understand it—with no one to show you how to——"</p> <p>"I have my little book," said Mary Frances.</p> <p>"<i>Book!</i>" sniffed Aunt Maria, putting the breakfast cereal on to cook. "<i>Book!</i> A <i>book</i> can't tell you exactly when a piece of toast is brown enough, or a potato just done enough to be mealy, nor how to keep a pan from burning. Book! It's talent! That's what it is! Blood will tell. You inherited it from me. I never burnt pans—never in my life—there's no excuse for it."</p> <p>"Yes, ma'am," said Mary Frances, thinking of the ruined breakfast.</p> <p>"Go up, and open the beds to air," commanded Aunt Maria.</p> <p>When Mary Frances got back, she could scarcely see across the kitchen for smoke.</p> <p>"Fire!" screamed Aunt Maria, making for Boiler Pan on the stove.</p> <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/i075.jpg" width-obs="529" height-obs="722" alt=""Book!" sniffed Aunt Maria, "Book!—It's Talent!"" title="" /></div> <p>"I thought the house was on fire," she panted,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</SPAN></span> snatching it up. "Oh,—oh, I wish I had my smelling salts! The porridge is all burnt up! What a disgrace!"</p> <p>Mary Frances felt very sorry for her, but when she saw Sauce Pan and Coffee Pot holding their queer little fists over their mouths to keep from laughing out, and when she remembered how funny the old lady looked making across the kitchen in two steps, she ran back into the dining room to laugh.</p> <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/i076a.jpg" width-obs="109" height-obs="288" alt="She ran into the dining room to laugh" title="" /></div> <p>"I must stop," she'd say to herself—and the more she'd say it, the more she'd laugh. "This is dreadful, Mary Frances," she'd scold herself; "but, oh, my, wasn't it funny!"—and away she'd go again.</p> <p>At length she Went back upstairs until Aunt Maria called,</p> <div class='center'> "Breakfast!"<br/></div> <p>Even at the table she couldn't look at Aunt Maria without laughing.</p> <p>"What's the matter?" asked Brother.</p> <p>"Oh, don't ask me!" Mary Frances begged, hiding her face.</p> <p>She didn't dare go into the kitchen until after her aunt had gone, for fear of disgracing herself laughing.</p> <div class="figright"> <ANTIMG src="images/i076b.jpg" width-obs="383" height-obs="183" alt="To keep from laughing out." title="" /></div> <p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</SPAN></span></p> <div class="figleft"> <ANTIMG src="images/i077a.jpg" width-obs="116" height-obs="458" alt="Smiling pots and pans" title="" /></div> <p>When she did go out to look up her next lesson in her little book, Boiler Pan walked dolefully up to her, holding out a piece of sand-paper.</p> <p>He looked so funny with a big black spot on one eye!</p> <p>Bowing, he began to recite:</p> <p>"Of course, you never burn your pans,<br/> <span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Of course, no more do I;</span><br/> <span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">But, should such sad things happen,</span><br/> <span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">A piece of this just try."</span><br/></p> <p>"I will!" exclaimed Mary Frances; and in less than a twinkle had rubbed all the burnt spots off.</p> <p>"My,—that's better; thank you," brightly beamed Boiler Pan.</p> <p>Mary Frances sat down on the rocking chair, and opened her book.</p> <p>"Tea! Omelet!" she exclaimed. "Isn't that nice!"</p> <p>Just then came a knock at the kitchen door.</p> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/i077b.jpg" width-obs="538" height-obs="274" alt=""I thought the house was on fire!" she panted." title="" /></div> <hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</SPAN></span></p> <div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />

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