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Prissy had no trouble in breaking into Uncle Richard’s house, for the woodshed door was unfastened. She tripped into the hostile kitchen with rosy cheeks and mischief sparkling in her eyes. This was an adventure–this was fun! She would tell her father all about it when he came home at night and what a laugh they would have!

There was still a good fire in the stove, and in the pantry Prissy found the dinner in its raw state–a fine roast of fresh pork, potatoes, cabbage, turnips and the ingredients of a raisin pudding, for Richard Baker was fond of raisin puddings, and could make them as well as Mrs. Janeway could, if that was anything to boast of.

In a short time the kitchen was full of bubbling and hissings and appetizing odours. Prissy enjoyed herself hugely, and the raisin pudding, which she rather doubtfully mixed up, behaved itself beautifully.

“Uncle Richard said he’d be home by one,” said Prissy to herself, as the clock struck twelve, “so I’ll set the table now, dish up the dinner, and leave it where it will keep warm until he gets here. Then I’ll slip away home. I’d like to see his face when he steps in. I suppose he’ll think one of the Jenner girls across the street has cooked his dinner.”

Prissy soon had the table set, and she was just peppering the turnips when a gruff voice behind her said:

“Well, well, what does this mean?”

Prissy whirled around as if she had been shot, and there stood Uncle Richard in the woodshed door!

Poor Prissy! She could not have looked or felt more guilty if Uncle Richard had caught her robbing his desk. She did not drop the turnips for a wonder; but she was too confused to set them down, so she stood there holding them, her face crimson, her heart thumping, and a horrible choking in her throat.

“I–I–came up to cook your dinner for you, Uncle Richard,” she stammered. “I heard you say–in the store–that Mrs. Janeway had gone home and that you had nobody to cook your New Year’s dinner for you. So I thought I’d come and do it, but I meant to slip away before you came home.”

Poor Prissy felt that she would never get to the end of her explanation. Would Uncle Richard be angry? Would he order her from the house?

“It was very kind of you,” said Uncle Richard drily. “It’s a wonder your father let you come.”

“Father was not home, but I am sure he would not have prevented me if he had been. Father has no hard feelings against you, Uncle Richard.”

“Humph!” said Uncle Richard. “Well, since you’ve cooked the dinner you must stop and help me eat it. It smells good, I must say. Mrs. Janeway always burns pork when she roasts it. Sit down, Prissy. I’m hungry.”

They sat down. Prissy felt quite giddy and breathless, and could hardly eat for excitement; but Uncle Richard had evidently brought home a good appetite from Navarre, and he did full justice to his New Year’s dinner. He talked to Prissy too, quite kindly and politely, and when the meal was over he said slowly:

“I’m much obliged to you, Prissy, and I don’t mind owning to you that I’m sorry for my share in the quarrel, and have wanted for a long time to be friends with your father again, but I was too ashamed and proud to make the first advance. You can tell him so for me, if you like. And if he’s willing to let bygones be bygones, tell him I’d like him to come up here with you tonight when he gets home and spend the evening with me.”

“Oh, he will come, I know!” cried Prissy joyfully. “He has felt so badly about not being friendly with you, Uncle Richard. I’m as glad as can be.”

Prissy ran impulsively around the table and kissed Uncle Richard. He looked up at his tall, girlish niece with a smile of pleasure.

“You’re a good girl, Prissy, and a kind-hearted one too, or you’d never have come up here to cook a dinner for a crabbed old uncle who deserved to eat cold dinners for his stubbornness. It made me cross today when folks wished me a happy New Year. It seemed like mockery when I hadn’t a soul belonging to me to make it happy. But it has brought me happiness already, and I believe it will be a happy year all the way through.”

“Indeed it will!” laughed Prissy. “I’m so happy now I could sing. I believe it was an inspiration–my idea of coming up here to cook your dinner for you.”

“You must promise to come and cook my New Year’s dinner for me every New Year we live near enough together,” said Uncle Richard.

And Prissy promised.