This time she bore back in triumph a can of corn, another of tomatoes, and a glass jar of preserved peaches.

In the kitchen a cheery bubbling from the potatoes on the stove greeted her.

Billy's spirits rose with the steam.
"There, Spunkie," she said gayly to the cat, who had just uncurled from a nap behind the stove.

"Tell me I can't get up a dinner! And maybe we'll have the peach fritters, too," she chirped.

"I've got the peach-part, anyway." But Billy did not have the peach fritters, after all.