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The Corner House Girls on a Houseboat
The Corner House Girls on a Houseboat / How they sailed away, what happened on the voyage, and what was discovered
CHAPTER I – “WHAT’S THAT?”
Delicious and appetizing odors filled the kitchen of the old Corner House. They were wafted even to the attic, were those whiffs and fragrant zephyrs. Some of them even escaped through the open windows, causing Uncle Rufus to cease his slow and laborious task of picking up some papers from the newly cut lawn.
“Dat suah smells mighty good – mighty good!” murmured the old darkey to himself, as he straightened up by the process of putting one hand to the small of his back and pressing there, as though a spring needed adjusting. “Dat suah smells mighty good! Mrs. Mac mus’ suah be out-doin’ of herse’f dish yeah mawnin’!”
He turned his wrinkled face toward the Corner House, again sniffing deeply.
A pleased and satisfied look came over his countenance as the cooking odors emanating from the kitchen became more pronounced.
“Dey’s suah to be some left – dey suah is, ’cause hit’s Miss Ruth’s party, an’ she’s always gen’rus wif de eatin’s. She suah is. Dey’s suah to be some left.”
He removed his hand from the small of his back, thereby allowing himself to fall forward again in the proper position for picking up papers, and went on with his work.
Inside the kitchen, where the odors were even more pronounced, as one might naturally expect to find them, two girls and a pleasant-faced woman were busy; though not more so than a fresh-appearing Finnish maid, who hummed an air full of minor strains as she opened the oven door now and then, thereby letting out more odors which were piled upon, mingled with, and otherwise added to those already bringing such a delicious sensation to Uncle Rufus.
“Aren’t you planning too much, Ruth?” asked her sister Agnes, as the girl addressed carefully placed a wondrously white napkin over a plate of freshly baked macaroons. “I mean the girls will never eat all this,” and she waved her hand to include a side table on which were many more plates, some empty, awaiting their burden from the oven, while others were covered with white linen like some mysterious receptacles under a stage magician’s serviette.
“Oh, don’t worry about that!” laughed Ruth. “My only worry is that I shall not have enough.”
“Well, for the land’s sake! how many do you expect?” demanded Agnes Kenway.