"Burney's making jelly: let's go and get our scrapings," said Poppy to Nellie once, when mamma was away.
But Burney was busy and cross, and cooks are not as patient as mothers; so when the children appeared, each armed with a spoon, and demanded their usual feast, she wouldn't hear of it, and ordered them off.
"But we only want the scrapings of the pan, Burney: mamma always lets us have them, when we help her make jelly; don't she, Nelly?" said Poppy, trying to explain the case.
"Yes; and makes us our little potful too," added Nelly, persuasively.
"I don't want your help; so be off. Your ma can fuss with your pot, if she chooses. I've no time."
"I think Burney's the crossest woman in the world. It's mean to eat all the scrapings herself; isn't it Nelly?" said Poppy, very loud, as the cook shut the door in their faces. "Never mind: I know how to pay her," she added, in a whisper, as they sat on the stairs bewailing their wrongs. "She'll put her old jelly in the big closet, and lock the door; but we can climb the plum tree, and get in at the window, when she takes her nap."
"Should we dare to eat any?" asked Nelly, timid, but longing for the forbidden fruit.
"I should; just as much as ever I like. It's
