d not agree to lend you a bowl, but I will, my dear.' Ugh! I always
want to shake that hateful woman, though she was a moral mamma."

"Never mind her now, but tell me all about my loaf," said Dr. Alec, much
amused at Rose's burst of indignation.

"There's nothing to tell, uncle, except that I did my best, gave my mind
to it, and sat watching over it all the while it was in the oven till I
was quite baked myself. Everything went right this time, and it came out
a nice, round, crusty loaf, as you see. Now taste it, and tell me if it
is good as well as handsome."

"Must I cut it? Can't I put it under a glass cover and keep it in the
parlor as they do wax flowers and fine works of that sort?"

"What an idea, uncle! It would mould and be spoilt. Besides, people
would laugh at us, and make fun of my old-fashioned accomplishment. You
promised to eat it, and you must; not all at once, but as soon as you
can, so I can make you some more."

Dr. Alec solemnly cut off his favourite crusty slice, and solemnly ate
it; then wiped his lips, and brushing back Rose's hair, solemnly kissed
her on the forehead, saying, heartily,

"My dear, it is perfect bread, and you are an honour to your teacher.
When we have our model school I shall offer a prize for the best bread,
and you will get it."

"I've got it already, and I'm quite satisfied," said Rose, slipping into
her seat, and trying to hide her right hand which had a burn on it.

But Dr. Alec saw it, guessed how it came there, and after tea insisted
on easing the pain which she would hardly confess.

"Aunt Clara says I am spoiling my hands, but I don't care, for I've had
such good times with Aunt Plenty, and I think she has enjoyed it as
much as I have. Only one thing troubles me, uncle, and I want to ask
you about it," said Rose, as they paced up and down the hall in the
twilight, the bandaged hand very carefully laid on Dr. Alec's arm.

"More little confidences? I like them immensely, so tell away, my dear."

"Well, you see I feel as if Aunt Peace would like to do something for
me, and I've found out what it can be. You know she can't go about like
Aunty Plen, and we are so busy nowadays that she is rather lonely,
I'm afraid. So I want to take lessons in sewing of her. She works so
beautifully, and it is a useful thing, you know, and I ought to be a
good needlewoman as well as housekeeper, oughtn't I?"

"Bless your kind little heart, that is what I was thinking of the other