rmilk
for you; it's as rich as cream, a'most; and I take and put in a
spoonful of--you know what this is?"

"Salaeratus?"

"That's it."

"We use soda at our house."

"Salaeratus is good enough for me," said Miss Redwood; "and I know what
it'll do; so I'm never put out in my calculations. Now when it foams
up--see,--now mix your cake, dear, as quick as you like.
Stop--wait--let's get the molasses in. Now, go on. I declare, having
two pair o' hands kind o' puts one out. Stir it up; don't be afraid."

Matilda was not afraid, and was very much in earnest. The gingerbread
was quickly mixed, and for a few minutes there was busy work, buttering
the pans and putting the mixture in them, and setting the pans in the
oven. Then Matilda washed her hands; the housekeeper put the flour and
spices away; and the two sat down to watch the baking.

"It'll be good," said the housekeeper.

"I hope it will," said Matilda.

"I know 'twill," said Miss Redwood. "You do your part right; and these
sort o' things--flour, and butter, and meat, and potatoes, and
that--don't never disapint you. That's one thing that is satisfactory
in this world."

"But mamma has her cake spoiled in the oven sometimes."

"'Twarn't the oven's fault," said Miss Redwood. "Did ye think it was?
Ovens don't do that for me, never."

"But sometimes the oven was too hot," said Matilda; "and other times
she said it was not hot enough."

"Of course!" said the housekeeper; "and then again other times she
forgot to look at it, maybe, and left her cake in too long. The cake
couldn't knock at the door of the oven to be let out; that'd be too
much to ask. Now look at yourn, dear."

Matilda opened the oven door and shut it again.

"What's the appearance of it?"

"It is coming up beautifully. But it isn't up in the middle yet."

"The fire's just right," said the housekeeper.

"But how can you _tell_, Miss Redwood?" said Matilda, standing by the
stove with a most careful set of wrinkles on her little brow.

"Tell?" said the housekeeper; "just as you tell anything else; after
you've seen it fifty times, you know."

Matilda began a painful calculation of how often she could make
something to bake, and how long it would be till fifty times had made
her wise in the matter; when an inner door opened, and the minister
himself came upon the scene. Matilda coloured, and looked a little
abashed; the housekeeper smiled.

"I am very glad to see you here, Tilly," Mr. Ri