Such a busy little woman as she was! So full of self-importance and
trying so hard not to smile, or seem uncertain about anything! It was a
perfect treat to Tom to see her with her brows knit, and her rosy lips
pursed up, kneading away at the crust, rolling it out, cutting it up
into strips, lining the basin with it, shaving it off fine round the
rim, chopping up the steak into small pieces, raining down pepper and
salt upon them, packing them into the basin, pouring in cold water for
gravy, and never venturing to steal a look in his direction, lest her
gravity should be disturbed; until, at last, the basin being quite full
and only wanting the top crust, she clapped her hands all covered with
paste and flour, at Tom, and burst out heartily into such a charming
little laugh of triumph, that the pudding need have had no other
seasoning to commend it to the taste of any reasonable man on earth.
'Where's the pudding?' said Tom. For he was cutting his jokes, Tom was.
'Where!' she answered, holding it up with both hands. 'Look at it!'
'THAT a pudding!' said Tom.
'It WILL be, you stupid fellow, when it's covered in,' returned his
sister.
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