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Frank.”
    â€œFrank?”
    â€œHe’s our dog. He’s a gut dog, too. But he chews.”
    â€œHow about this. Tomorrow, if your father wants me to return, I’ll bring my hamper back. We’ll chat, and if you are in the mood to play games, we’ll look inside.”
    â€œYou can still change your mind today,” Thomas reminded her. “It’s not too late.”
    She knew he was right. Ruth also knew that what was in her basket wasn’t all that exciting. The children looked like they were expecting her to pull out a menagerie of baby animals or the like.
    So she decided to keep them waiting. Maybe they would be a little bit more eager to talk to her. And, well, her life had shown her time and again that nothing easily gained was worth having.
    She sighed. “Ach, but I’m afraid it is, Thomas. Tomorrow is soon enough. Now I’m going to make cookies on my own and a taco casserole.”
    Frank walked up to her and sat down by her feet. When she glanced down at him, his tongue lolled out and he gave her a tail thump. She bent down and gave him a pat. “Oh, and it looks like I’ll be keeping company with your sweet dog, too. He seems to like me fine.”
    Katrina folded her arms over her chest. “You know, we could probably sneak a peek in the hamper without you ever knowing.”
    â€œMaybe you could, and maybe you would do it, too.” She leaned down a bit, daring to look the nine-year-old in the eye. “But if you did, you’d know that you spoiled the surprise.”
    Wariness lit Katrina’s eyes. “And?”
    â€œAnd you might even come to regret that decision. Sometimes it’s better to try to get along with people, yes? Wait until tomorrow, Katrina. I’ll be back.”
    And at that, little Meg popped her thumb out of her mouth. “I want to make cookies with you, Ruth. Can I?”
    â€œOf course. Go find a step stool, child. I would like your company. I would like it verra much.”
    Meg scampered to the other side of the kitchen, picked up the little step stool, and then proceeded to half carry, half drag the step stool to Ruth’s side. When Ruth smiled at her again, she clambered on top of it and leaned close. “I like baking,” she whispered.
    â€œI do too, child,” Ruth replied as she pulled a large ceramic bowl closer.
    â€œWhat kind of cookies are you gonna make?” Meg asked.
    â€œPeanut butter with chocolate kisses in the middle.”
    â€œBut I don’t think we have any of those chocolates.”
    â€œI brought some,” Ruth said as she located the flour, sugar, peanut butter, and margarine. After measuring out the ingredients, she added two eggs and a dash of vanilla.
    â€œOh.”
    Five minutes later, the twins stopped lurking around the corner and asked if they could help roll cookies in sugar.
    â€œOf course, girls. Get out some saucers so I can pour sugar into them.”
    They did as she asked, then followed her movements, making lopsided balls out of the dough, then rolling each in lots of granulated sugar.
    Then, in came Gregory, who asked to help put them on the baking sheet. Soon, Thomas and Katrina pulled up chairs, saying they were supposed to watch their siblings.
    Every two minutes or so, Ruth would catch one of them eyeing the hamper with something akin to awe in their eyes.
    All of them leaned close when she carefully pulled the bag of chocolate from the top of the hamper.
    And by the time she’d served each of them no less than three cookies and a glass of milk, Ruth knew that she had better get something besides some coloring books and a box of crayons for tomorrow.
    These kinner needed activity, and lots of it.
    Drastic times called for drastic measures.

Chapter 5
    Frank didn’t mean to eat Daed’s flannel shirt, neither. And if he did, I’m sure he’s sorry.
    Gregory, Age 7
    In spite of his best intentions, the sun had already set