she was quite as silly as she appeared. But if Delia would only
do the work and do it half-way right, Janice told herself she did
not care if Delia was actually an idiot. At least the new girl
seemed good-natured.

And she was not all thumbs! But Janice stuffed the end of a
kitchen towel into her mouth more than once to stifle her giggles
when she chanced to think Of how daddy would look when he caught
his first glimpse of the gigantic Delia.

When the vegetables were peeled and on the stove, and the roast
was cooking in the covered roaster, Janice led Delia through the
lower part of the house. She tried to explain what there was to
do on the morrow when Delia would be alone all day, with daddy at
business and herself at school.

"Yes, ma'am," said Delia, after each item was explained. "And
then what do I do?"

Her vacant face advertised to all beholders that she promptly
forgot what she was told. One particular formula for work drove
the previously explained item immediately out of Delia's head.

"Isn't it a nice house?" was her final whistling comment as they
came back to the kitchen. "And where does this door lead?"

She opened the back kitchen door. She stared at the
coal-littered floor, at the streaked and smutted walls, at the
overturned chairs and a broken flower-pot or two that had come to
ruin during the bombardment.