At last Bubble had a bright idea.

You remember the big fork that Mother uses to take pies out of the oven?
Well, he spliced that on to the broom-handle, and then, standing well back, so that he could see (on one foot, of course, for he couldn't put the other to the ground), he reached for the pie.

It was a dreadful moment, Hilda! The pie slid easily on to the fork, and for a moment all seemed to promise well; but the next minute, just as Bubble began to lower it, he wavered on his one foot--only a little, but enough to send the poor pie tumbling to the ground." "Poor pie!" cried Bubble.

"Wal, I like that! Poor _me_, I sh'd say.

I'd had bread'n m'lasses three meals runnin', Miss Hildy.