She found grandmother making pumpkin pies, for the minister and his wife
were coming to dinner the next day. Grandmother was famous for making
pumpkin pies, and never allowed any one else to make them.

"It's my grandmother's recipe," she said, and Ethelwyn nearly fell off
her chair trying to imagine grandmother's grandmother.

"I shouldn't suppose they would have been discovered then," she said,
after a struggle. "Pumpkin pies don't go out of style like clothes, do
they, grandmother?"

"Mine never have," said grandmother proudly. "I suppose Mandy never
makes pumpkin pies."

"Yes she does, but they don't grow in yellow watermelons; they live in
tin cans."

"Pooh!" said grandmother, "they can't hold a candle to these."

"No, but why would they want to?"

"Hand me that japanned box with the spices, please, dear. Now you'll see
the advantage of doing this sort of thing yourself; here are mustard and
pepper boxes in this other japanned box, but I know just where they
always stand, so I could get up in the night and make no mistake."

Just then grandmother was called away from the kitchen.

"Don't meddle and get into mischief, will you, deary?" she said. And
Ethelwyn promised.