erself to be another thing. Oh, the trouble they had with
the cooking! The same fire that would not bake the biscuits burned the
steak to a crisp. After repeated efforts and experiments, however,
bread, steak, and potatoes that could be eaten appeared on the table.

Then they decided to try some cake. Patty, and Johnny, who was always
ready to help, knit their brows and puzzled their brains over the
recipes. Johnny volunteered to read the directions from the cook-book,
while Patty measured and mixed the ingredients.

He read, "'Four eggs, two cups sugar--'"

"Stop, Johnny--don't read so fast. I wonder if the eggs ought to be
beaten?"

"Course they ought to; sh'd think any goose'd know that," said Johnny,
contemptuously.

"I don't believe they ought to be; the recipe doesn't say anything about
beating." So the eggs were broken in with the sugar, and they were
stirred together. Then the butter--a liberal quantity--and milk and
flour. "'Two tea-spoons cream-tartar; flavor to taste,'" read Johnny.

At length the cake was in the oven, and they watched and waited for it
to rise. But it never rose. The fire was made quick; then it was allowed
to burn slower; still the cake was an inch below the top of the pan.
More than an hour passed, then Patty took it from the oven. What could
be the trouble? It was as heavy as lead. Johnny read the recipe over
again carefully. "'One tea-spoonful soda'--that's the trouble, Pat; we
forgot the soda."

Katie was the most unfortunate of the housekeepers. If she trimmed the
lamps, she was sure to spill the oil; if she cooked the dinner, in spite
of her wisest precautions it was sure to be burned. And Johnny used
laughingly to warn her against looking at stakes, or nails, or twigs, as
a rent in her dress was sure to be the result.

Then there was Nan. She did so hate dish-washing! Sometimes, if in the
very midst of hot water and rattling crockery, she saw her girl friends
outside at play, away she would go, not thinking again of her unfinished
task until returning, perhaps half an hour afterward, she would find the
towels wet and the water cold in the pan.

And it must be confessed that sometimes even Patty herself would drop
her broom, and at the same time her dignity, and join the children, as
eager as any of them, forgetful of the dinner hour and the uncooked
dinner.

But the sewing--making the clothes--was the worst. Patty was so proud
that she would not ask help from anybody--no,