“Get away from here!” she cried angrily. “You little beast!”
“I think the pony shows remarkably good taste,” commented Rev. MacGill, trying to pass the calamity off as a joke. But his hostess wasn't capable of an answering smile; she gazed despairingly, tragically, at the desecrated confection.
“I took such pains with it,” she almost wailed. “It was a deep-dish peach pie--I made it specially for Mr. MacGill.”
“Well, I'm not particularly fond of peach pie, anyway,” said the minister, meaning to be soothing.
“Oh, but I know you ARE! Mrs. Allen said that at her house you took two helpings-that you said it was your favourite dessert.”
The minister coughed a little cough--he was caught in a somewhat delicate situation; then, always tactful, replied: “Perhaps I did say that--her peach pie was very good. But I'm equally fond of all sweets--I have a sweet tooth.”
At this point Missy gathered her courage to quaver a suggestion. “Couldn't you just take off the top crust, mother? Gypsy didn't touch the underneath part. Why can't you just--”
But her mother's scandalized look silenced her. She must have made a faux pas. Father and Rev. MacGill laughed outright, and Aunt Nettie smiled a withering smile.
“That's a brilliant idea,” she said satirically. “Perhaps you'd have us pick out the untouched bits of the crust, too!” Missy regarded her aunt reproachfully but helplessly; she was too genuinely upset for any repartee. Why did Aunt Nettie like to put her “in wrong”? Her suggestion seemed to her perfectly reasonable. Why didn't they act on it? But of course they'd ignore it, just making fun of her now but punishing her afterward. For she divined very accurately that they would hold her accountable for Gypsy's blunder--even though the blunder was rectifiable; it was a BIG pie, and most of it as good as ever. They were unreasonable, unjust.
Mother seemed unable to tear herself away from the despoiled masterpiece.
“Come, mamma,” said father, “it's nothing to make such a fuss about. Just trot out some of that apple sauce of yours. Mr. MacGill doesn't get to taste anything like that every day.” He turned to the minister. “The world's full of apple sauce--but there's apple sauce and apple sauce. Now my wife's apple sauce is APPLE SAUCE! I tell her it's a dish for a king.”