Bud sopped his last hotcake in a pool of syrup and watched him from the corner of his eyes, without turning his head an inch toward Cash.

His keenest desire, just then, was to see Cash when he tackled the frying pan.
But Cash disappointed him there.

He took a pie tin off the shelf and laid his strips of bacon on it, and set it in the oven; which is a very good way of cooking breakfast bacon, as Bud well knew.

Cash then took down the little square baking pan, greased from the last baking of bread, and in that he fried his hot cakes.

As if that were not sufficiently exasperating, he gave absolutely no sign of being conscious of the frying pan any more than he was conscious of Bud.