with the nose, and finally, with the mouth. If someone went to all the work to bake something for you, you should admire it first as an artistic creation, and not just gobble it down.
“What are we going to tell her?” Josh murmured.
“That we were digging for dog doo?” said Peter.
“There’s only one thing to do,” Jake decided. “Eat the pie. Then we’ve got to go to Ethel’s Bakery and buy another. We’ll put it in the box with the note and leave it on the table, and Mom won’t know the difference. We’ll take the plate back to Mrs. Malloy and tell her that Mom said thanks.”
The boys ate the pie, more out of duty than pleasure—not because it wasn’t good, but because they didn’t seem so hungry anymore.
Afterward, Wally went upstairs to shake money out of his bank and wondered how life could get so complicated. Unfortunately, all the money he had was in a clay piggy bank that Aunt Ida had given him last Christmas, and the only wayanyone could get money out was to shake it upside down and hope that something would fall out of the slot, though it hardly ever did.
He sat on his bed and shook and shook. How could it be that with so many dimes and nickels and pennies in it, hardly any ever hit the slot in exactly the right way to fall out? If one coin fell out every ten minutes, and there were a hundred and seventy-nine coins, then how long would it take before … ?
“Hurry , Wally¡ We have to be home in a half hour. We need to buy that pie before Mom gets here, and we Ve only got five dollars between us. We’ll need more than that.”
Wally took a hammer, smashed his clay piggy bank to smithereens, scooped up the money, and gave it to Jake.
•
The boys were all in the other room quietly watching TV when their mother walked in the back door and clunked her purse and keys on the kitchen counter.
“What’s this?” Wally heard her say.
There was a silence—a long, long silence. The sound of a box being opened. The squeak of the kitchen floor. Then a long, slow “I declare!”
Wally held his breath.
“I declare!” Mother said again.
Wally couldn’t stand it. Neither could Jake or Josh or Peter. They all went to the door of the kitchen.
“Well, now I’ve seen everything!” Mother said, staring down into the box and holding Mrs. Malloy’s note in her hand.
“I don’t see anything,” said Wally.
“Did this just come this afternoon?” Mother asked, pointing to the box.
Wally nodded. “Caroline and her sisters brought it over.”
Mother stood shaking her head. “Jean Malloy says in her note that she baked this pumpkin chiffon pie herself from her great-aunt’s recipe, and this pie came from Ethel’s Bakery, or I’ll eat the box.”
Wally almost choked.
“H-how do you know?” asked Jake.
“Because Ethel’s the only one who sprinkles caramel and pecans around the rim of her pumpkin pies. And what’s more, she always leaves a little swirl of filling right in the middle, sort of a trademark, you might say. I saw these pies in her window just this morning, and Jean Malloy’s got the nerve to tell me she made it herself.”
Hoo boy¡ Wally thought, and his legs felt like rubber. Maybe they should tell her. Maybe theyshould just come right out and tell her that when she sent that chocolate cake over to Mrs. Malloy in August, Caroline thought it was a trick and threw it in the river, so the boys thought maybe this was a trick, and they were just trying to dig around and see if there was any dog doo in it…. But then he thought of how awful Mom would feel if she knew her beautiful cake had gone in the river. She’d want to know why Caroline would suspect such a thing, and then he’d have to tell her all the ways the Hatford boys and the Malloy girls had been tormenting each other since the Malloys arrived. No, he had better keep quiet.
‘‘If the woman doesn’t bake, it’s not a sin,” Mother went on. “Why couldn’t she just have said she’d picked up a pie
“What are we going to tell her?” Josh murmured.
“That we were digging for dog doo?” said Peter.
“There’s only one thing to do,” Jake decided. “Eat the pie. Then we’ve got to go to Ethel’s Bakery and buy another. We’ll put it in the box with the note and leave it on the table, and Mom won’t know the difference. We’ll take the plate back to Mrs. Malloy and tell her that Mom said thanks.”
The boys ate the pie, more out of duty than pleasure—not because it wasn’t good, but because they didn’t seem so hungry anymore.
Afterward, Wally went upstairs to shake money out of his bank and wondered how life could get so complicated. Unfortunately, all the money he had was in a clay piggy bank that Aunt Ida had given him last Christmas, and the only wayanyone could get money out was to shake it upside down and hope that something would fall out of the slot, though it hardly ever did.
He sat on his bed and shook and shook. How could it be that with so many dimes and nickels and pennies in it, hardly any ever hit the slot in exactly the right way to fall out? If one coin fell out every ten minutes, and there were a hundred and seventy-nine coins, then how long would it take before … ?
“Hurry , Wally¡ We have to be home in a half hour. We need to buy that pie before Mom gets here, and we Ve only got five dollars between us. We’ll need more than that.”
Wally took a hammer, smashed his clay piggy bank to smithereens, scooped up the money, and gave it to Jake.
•
The boys were all in the other room quietly watching TV when their mother walked in the back door and clunked her purse and keys on the kitchen counter.
“What’s this?” Wally heard her say.
There was a silence—a long, long silence. The sound of a box being opened. The squeak of the kitchen floor. Then a long, slow “I declare!”
Wally held his breath.
“I declare!” Mother said again.
Wally couldn’t stand it. Neither could Jake or Josh or Peter. They all went to the door of the kitchen.
“Well, now I’ve seen everything!” Mother said, staring down into the box and holding Mrs. Malloy’s note in her hand.
“I don’t see anything,” said Wally.
“Did this just come this afternoon?” Mother asked, pointing to the box.
Wally nodded. “Caroline and her sisters brought it over.”
Mother stood shaking her head. “Jean Malloy says in her note that she baked this pumpkin chiffon pie herself from her great-aunt’s recipe, and this pie came from Ethel’s Bakery, or I’ll eat the box.”
Wally almost choked.
“H-how do you know?” asked Jake.
“Because Ethel’s the only one who sprinkles caramel and pecans around the rim of her pumpkin pies. And what’s more, she always leaves a little swirl of filling right in the middle, sort of a trademark, you might say. I saw these pies in her window just this morning, and Jean Malloy’s got the nerve to tell me she made it herself.”
Hoo boy¡ Wally thought, and his legs felt like rubber. Maybe they should tell her. Maybe theyshould just come right out and tell her that when she sent that chocolate cake over to Mrs. Malloy in August, Caroline thought it was a trick and threw it in the river, so the boys thought maybe this was a trick, and they were just trying to dig around and see if there was any dog doo in it…. But then he thought of how awful Mom would feel if she knew her beautiful cake had gone in the river. She’d want to know why Caroline would suspect such a thing, and then he’d have to tell her all the ways the Hatford boys and the Malloy girls had been tormenting each other since the Malloys arrived. No, he had better keep quiet.
‘‘If the woman doesn’t bake, it’s not a sin,” Mother went on. “Why couldn’t she just have said she’d picked up a pie
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