Mum is asleep, and Fan out, so I loafed down to see if there was any fun afoot," said Tom, lingering, as if the prospect was agreeable.

He was a social fellow, and very grateful just then to any one who helped him to forget his worries for a time.
Polly knew this, felt that his society would not be a great affliction to herself at least, and whispering to Maud, "He won't know," she added, aloud, "Come in if you like, and stir this cake for me; it needs a strong hand, and mine are tired.

There, put on that apron to keep you tidy, sit here, and take it easy." "I used to help grandma bat up cake, and rather liked it, if I remember right," said Tom, letting Polly tie a checked apron on him, put a big bowl into his hands, and settle him near the table, where Maud was picking raisins, and she herself stirring busily about among spice-boxes, rolling-pins, and butter-pots.
"You do it beautifully, Tom.

I 'll give you a conundrum to lighten your labor: Why are bad boys like cake ?" asked Polly, anxious to cheer him up.
"Because a good beating makes them better.

I doubt that myself, though," answered Tom, nearly knocking the bottom of the bowl out with his energetic demonstrations, for it really was a relief to do something.
"Bright boy! here 's a plum for you," and Polly threw a plump raisin into his mouth.
"Put in lots, won't you?
I 'm rather fond of plum-cake," observed Tom, likening himself to Hercules with the distaff, and finding his employment pleasant, if not classical.
"I always do, if I can; there 's nothing I like better than to shovel in sugar and spice, and make nice, plummy cake for people.