house seem lonelier than ever, for with Gladys around there would have
been somebody to talk to. At the foot of the stairs she paused. She
could hear some one singing in a distant part of the house. "Katy's
happy, anyway," she said with a sigh, "if she feels like singing in that
hot kitchen," A desire for company led her out to the kitchen. It was
not Katy, however, who greeted her when she opened the door. It was
Gladys--Gladys with a big apron on and her sleeves rolled up, just
taking from the oven a pan of golden brown muffins. The room was filled
with the delicious odor of freshly baked dough.

Gladys looked up with a smile when she saw her mother in the doorway.
"How do you like the new cook?" she asked. "Katy went home sick this
afternoon and I thought I would get supper myself." The kitchen looked
so cheerful and inviting that Mrs. Evans came in and sat down. Gladys
began mixing up potatoes for croquettes.

"Can't I do something?" asked her mother.

"Why, yes," said Gladys, bringing out another apron and tying it around
her waist, "you heat the fat to fry these in." Mrs. Evans and Gladys had
never had such a good time together. Gladys had planned the entire menu
and her mother meekly followed her directions as to what to do next. She
and Gladys frolicked around the kitchen with increasing hilarity as the
supper progressed. Never before had there existed such a comradeship
between them.

"Do you think this is seasoned right?" asked Mrs. Evans, holding out a
spoonful of white sauce for Gladys to taste.

"A little more salt," said Gladys judicially. Mrs. Evans had forgotten