“Now then,” said Grandmother when Mary Jane brought up the potatoes, “take that scrubbing brush over there and scrub them clean.  Then open the oven door with this holder and lay the potatoes on the shelf to bake.”

“Just like I scrub my hands?” asked Mary Jane.

“Just the same,” answered Grandmother, “only you don’t use soap.”

“How about some baked apples?” asked Grandmother as the oven door was shut on the potatoes; and Mary Jane noticed that she said it just as though Mary Jane could do anything or cook anything a body might want.

“They’re good, I think,” replied Mary Jane.

“So do I,” said Grandmother, “and we’ll have some.  Your Grandfather opened the last box just this morning.  You pick out three, Mary Jane, and bring me the apple corer from the drawer and the flat brown bowl from the pantry.”

By that time, Mary Jane felt as important as any cook in the land.  She washed the apples.  Grandmother hadn’t said to do that, but Mary Jane was sure it should be done.  Then she took the bowl and the corer over to where Grandmother was working with her strawberries.

“Hold the apple so,” said Grandmother, showing just how an apple should be cored, “and turn the corer so—­see if you can do the next, Mary Jane.”

Mary Jane could.  Not as quickly as Grandmother had done it, of course, but she did it just the same and set it into the bowl as Grandmother had done.

“Now comes the fun part,” said Grandmother; “your mother used to love to fix apples I remember.”

“Did she do ’em just like me?” asked Mary Jane.

“Just exactly,” said Grandmother.  “Get a cup of sugar from the bin; and a teaspoon of cinnamon from that brown box over there and the pat of butter you’ll find on the pantry shelf.  Mix the sugar and cinnamon together and fill up the holes in the apples with it—­there’s your spoon, dear.”

Grandmother went on with her work and Mary Jane stirred the sugar and cinnamon and filled up the apples—­it was lots of fun, she didn’t wonder her mother had liked to do it!  Then Grandmother showed her how to put a lump of butter on the top of each apple—­“just like a hat, Grandmother!” exclaimed Mary Jane delightedly—­and set the bowl in the oven by the potatoes.

“Now can you set the table?” asked Grandmother.

“’Deed yes,” said Mary Jane proudly; “I do that for Mother.”

“I thought so,” replied Grandmother.  “I won’t have to show you about that.”

And she didn’t.  Mary Jane put the silver and the napkins and the pepper and salt and glasses and dishes all just as they should be.  And at Grandmother’s suggestion she put on a pat of butter and a glass of Grandfather’s favorite jelly.

“How’s the circus lady?” called Grandfather, who happened to come into the kitchen just then.

“She’s gone,” cried Mary Jane, “and a cook lady’s come to visit you.”  And she skipped out from the dining-room to show him her cap.