nse's purple-trimmed cap that roused the spirit in Marcia.

"I think I rather enjoy housework," she responded coolly. This unexpected
statement somewhat mollified the aunts. They had heard to the contrary
from some one who had lived in the same town with the Schuylers. Kate's
reputation was widely known, as that of a spoiled beauty, who did not care
to work, and would do whatever she pleased. The aunts had entertained many
forebodings from the few stray hints an old neighbor of Kate's had dared
to utter in their hearing.

The talk drifted at once into household matters, as though that were the
first division of the examination the young bride was expected to undergo.
Marcia took early opportunity to still further mollify her visitors by her
warmest praise of the good things with which the pantry and store-closet
had been filled. The expression that came upon the two old faces was that
of receiving but what is due. If the praise had not been forthcoming they
would have marked it down against her, but it counted for very little with
them, warm as it was.

"Can you make good bread?"

The question was flung out by Aunt Hortense like a challenge, and the very
set of her nostrils gave Marcia warning. But it was in a relieved voice
that ended almost in a ripple of laugh that she answered quite assuredly:
"Oh, yes, indeed. I can make beautiful bread. I just love to make it,
too!"

"But how do you make it?" quickly questioned Aunt Amelia, like a repeating
rifle. If the first shot had not struck home, the second was likely to.
"Do you use hop yeast? Potatoes? I thought so. Don't know how to make
salt-rising, do you? It's just what might have been expected."

"David has always been used to salt-rising bread," said Aunt Hortense with
a grim set of her lips as though she were delivering a judgment. "He was
raised on it."

"If David does not like my bread," said Marcia with a rising color and a
nervous little laugh, "then I shall try to make some that he does like."

There was an assurance about the "if" that did not please the oracle.

"David was raised on salt-rising bread," said Aunt Hortense again as if
that settled it. "We can send you down a loaf or two every time we bake
until you learn how."

"I'm sure it's very kind of you," said Marcia, not at all pleased, "but I
do not think that will be necessary. David has always seemed to like our
bread when he visited at home. Indeed he often praised it."

"David would not