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Chapter 3
“Now, listen to me very, very well,” Mabel said, “for there are rules you must agree to before we can set off.”
Pippa sat on the edge of the worktable in the kitchen, her hands folded delicately in her lap and her eyes wide, soaking up every word in a rare moment of acquiescence. The two baskets beside Pippa on the counter were full of still-warm muffins that Cook had just pulled from the oven and a tin of ginger biscuits she had baked earlier. Heavenly smells wafted to Mabel’s nose and she considered sneaking a muffin of her own. She turned her attention to her sister and looked her square in the eye.
“Delivering baskets of goods is a…” Mabel trailed off her words in a question, a common method of hers to test Pippa’s understanding.
“Act of charity!”
“Right.” Mabel nodded. “And a duty of ours in being…”
“Women!”
“Good neighbors,” Mabel corrected.
“Right, good neighbors,” Pippa repeated quietly to herself.
“And as good neighbors, we will deliver these baked goods to the Tucker family—”
“No! You never said we were going there!”
“—and the family that has just moved into the vacant home behind the school, with good Christian charity and kindness in our hearts and our thoughts.”
“Ugh!” Pippa said, folding her arms and glaring. “I changed my mind. I don’t want to learn how to deliver baskets like a lady.”
“No, no, no,” Mabel said with a wag of her finger. “Lesson number two: once a lady commits to something, she does not back out. Pippa, you have given your word; you must see this through. Besides, which Sheffield lady was it that threw rocks at a certain Tucker lad?”
“Me,” Pippa grumbled.
“So which Sheffield lady is going to deliver the apology basket of muffins and biscuits to the wronged gentleman?”
“They weren’t rocks, they were pebbles—”
“A-hem,” Mabel cleared her throat in a loud double syllable.
Pippa pouted. “Fine. Me.”
“Exactly. Now, take your basket,” Mabel said as she lowered her sister onto the floor and handed her a basket, immediately stilling the arm that began to swing it rapidly back and forth. “And hold it still so as not to lose any of the muffins along the way.”
Mabel selected two muffins from the cooling rack on the counter and led the way outside before handing one to Pippa and taking a bite into her own, a moan slipping from her mouth as the pastry melted on her tongue with an explosion of blueberry when she chewed.
“Cook makes the best muffins. I wish we didn’t have to give any of them away,” Pippa said through a mouthful.
Mabel swallowed her own bite and then turned to Pippa, closing her mouth again when the little sprite put up a hand to stop her. “I know,” Pippa said, swallowing. “A lady does not speak with her mouth full.”
“Right you are,” Mabel said with a smile, taking another bite of her muffin to cover the laugh that wanted to break free. Her heart swelled with love for her sister, and she stepped closer to sling an arm over Pippa’s shoulder.
“I love you, Pip.”
“I love you too, Mabel.”
They walked the rest of the way in companionable silence, Pippa asking the occasional question, and Mabel only needing to remind her one time that a lady does not run down the lane or splash in puddles.
They reached the farm that the Tucker family ran as tenants of Hattie Green’s family, and Mabel nudged Pippa forward. The girl moved slower than a snail, but eventually, they made it to the front stoop where Mabel picked up Pippa’s hand and knocked it on the door for her.
Pippa let out an irritated sigh before the door swung open, forcing her to stand at attention. Mrs. Tucker stood in the doorway, wiping her hands on her apron; gray peppered her dark hair pulled back into a tight chignon, and kindness crinkled the edges of her eyes. How such a sweet, kind woman had begotten such monsters for sons was beyond Mabel. One of the mysteries of the universe.
“Good afternoon, Miss Sheffield,” Mrs. Tucker said to Mabel.
