to get the key. The secret recipe for freckle juice was folded carefully in the bottom of Andrew's shoe. He was going to put it inside his sock, but he was afraid if his foot got sweaty the ink might blur and he wouldn't be able to read it. So, inside his shoe was safe enough. Even if it was windy nothing could happen to it there. He made up his mind not to read it until he got home. He didn't want to waste any time getting there. And he wasn't the world's fastest reader anyway, even though he'd gotten better since last fall. Still, there
might be some hard words that would take a while to figure out.
Andrew pressed Mrs. Burrows' doorbell.
“Hello, Andrew,” she said when she opened the door. “You're home from school early.”
“I ran all the way,” Andrew panted.
“How about some milk and cookies?” Mrs. Burrows asked.
“No thank you. I just want the key.”
“Well, come in, Andrew. Your mother's in the living room.”
Andrew followed Mrs. Burrows. His mother was dealing four piles of cards.
“Hi Mom. I came for the key.”
“Manners, Andrew . . . manners! Don't you say hello to all the ladies?” Mrs. Marcus asked.
“Oh. Hello,” Andrew said.
Mrs. Marcus reached for her purse. She opened it and gave Andrew the key. “Change your clothes and play outside. I'll be home by four o'clock.”
That only gave him an hour. He hoped the recipe didn't say to cook anything. He wasn't allowed to turn on the stove or the oven. Andrew dashed to his house, unlocked the front door and took off his shoe as soon as he was inside. He pulled out the secret recipe and sat down on the floor to read it. It said:
Sharon 's Secret Recipe for Freckle Juice
One glass makes an average amount of freckles. To get like Nicky Lane drink two glasses.
Mix up all these things together --stir well and drink fast.
Grape juice, vinegar, mustard, mayonnaise, juice from on e lemon, pepper and salt, ketchup, olive oil, and a speck of onion.
P.S. The faster you drink it the faster you get
F. R. E. C. K. L. E. S
Andrew read the list twice. It didn't sound like much of a secret recipe. His mother used those things every day. Of course, she didn't use them all together. Maybe that was the secret part. Well, he'd paid fifty cents. He might as well find out.
He climbed up on the kitchen counter so he could reach the cabinets. He found everything except the lemon--that was in the refrigerator--and the onion. Mrs. Marcus kept onions in the basement in a bin. Andrew ran downstairs and selected a small one, since the recipe only called for a speck. With or without the skin, Andrew wondered.
He chose a big blue glass. He'd start with just one glassful and then drink another if he wanted more freckles. No point in overdoing it the first time. That's what his mother always said.
Now, first the grape juice, Andrew thought. He filled the glass halfway and added an ice cube. All drinks tasted better cold and he was sure this one would too.
Then he added the other ingredients one by one. His mother had two kinds of vinegars--wine vinegar and plain vinegar. Andrew picked the wine one. He put in some hot mustard, one spoonful of mayonnaise and plenty of pepper and salt. Then some ketchup . . . that was hard to pour. But what about olive oil?
His mother had vegetable oil, but no olive oil. Maybe the stuff that looked like water in the olive jar was what Sharon meant. He put in a few spoonfuls of that. Now for the lemon. Andrew cut one in half and squeezed. Oh no! A seed dropped in by mistake. He picked it out with his spoon. He hated pits in his juice. Now all he needed was that speck of onion and he was all set. He stirred up the drink and smelled it. OH! IT SMELLED AWFUL! JUST PLAIN AWFUL! He'd have to hold his nose while he drank it. He stuck his tongue into the glass to taste it. Ick! Terrible ! He didn't know how he would ever manage to get it down ... and fast too. It said to drink it very fast! That old Sharon! She probably thought he
might be some hard words that would take a while to figure out.
Andrew pressed Mrs. Burrows' doorbell.
“Hello, Andrew,” she said when she opened the door. “You're home from school early.”
“I ran all the way,” Andrew panted.
“How about some milk and cookies?” Mrs. Burrows asked.
“No thank you. I just want the key.”
“Well, come in, Andrew. Your mother's in the living room.”
Andrew followed Mrs. Burrows. His mother was dealing four piles of cards.
“Hi Mom. I came for the key.”
“Manners, Andrew . . . manners! Don't you say hello to all the ladies?” Mrs. Marcus asked.
“Oh. Hello,” Andrew said.
Mrs. Marcus reached for her purse. She opened it and gave Andrew the key. “Change your clothes and play outside. I'll be home by four o'clock.”
That only gave him an hour. He hoped the recipe didn't say to cook anything. He wasn't allowed to turn on the stove or the oven. Andrew dashed to his house, unlocked the front door and took off his shoe as soon as he was inside. He pulled out the secret recipe and sat down on the floor to read it. It said:
Sharon 's Secret Recipe for Freckle Juice
One glass makes an average amount of freckles. To get like Nicky Lane drink two glasses.
Mix up all these things together --stir well and drink fast.
Grape juice, vinegar, mustard, mayonnaise, juice from on e lemon, pepper and salt, ketchup, olive oil, and a speck of onion.
P.S. The faster you drink it the faster you get
F. R. E. C. K. L. E. S
Andrew read the list twice. It didn't sound like much of a secret recipe. His mother used those things every day. Of course, she didn't use them all together. Maybe that was the secret part. Well, he'd paid fifty cents. He might as well find out.
He climbed up on the kitchen counter so he could reach the cabinets. He found everything except the lemon--that was in the refrigerator--and the onion. Mrs. Marcus kept onions in the basement in a bin. Andrew ran downstairs and selected a small one, since the recipe only called for a speck. With or without the skin, Andrew wondered.
He chose a big blue glass. He'd start with just one glassful and then drink another if he wanted more freckles. No point in overdoing it the first time. That's what his mother always said.
Now, first the grape juice, Andrew thought. He filled the glass halfway and added an ice cube. All drinks tasted better cold and he was sure this one would too.
Then he added the other ingredients one by one. His mother had two kinds of vinegars--wine vinegar and plain vinegar. Andrew picked the wine one. He put in some hot mustard, one spoonful of mayonnaise and plenty of pepper and salt. Then some ketchup . . . that was hard to pour. But what about olive oil?
His mother had vegetable oil, but no olive oil. Maybe the stuff that looked like water in the olive jar was what Sharon meant. He put in a few spoonfuls of that. Now for the lemon. Andrew cut one in half and squeezed. Oh no! A seed dropped in by mistake. He picked it out with his spoon. He hated pits in his juice. Now all he needed was that speck of onion and he was all set. He stirred up the drink and smelled it. OH! IT SMELLED AWFUL! JUST PLAIN AWFUL! He'd have to hold his nose while he drank it. He stuck his tongue into the glass to taste it. Ick! Terrible ! He didn't know how he would ever manage to get it down ... and fast too. It said to drink it very fast! That old Sharon! She probably thought he
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