Mary slipped from the gate and confronted the spick-and-span damsel of Ingleside.
“What you got there?” she demanded, trying to take the basket.
Rilla resisted. “It’th for Mithter Meredith,” she lisped.
“Give it to me. I’LL give it to him,” said Mary.
“No. Thuthan thaid that I wathn’t to give it to anybody but Mithter Mer’dith or Aunt Martha,” insisted Rilla.
Mary eyed her sourly.