Mother Meg Part 13

"No," answered Meg softly, "that's why----"

"Yes," interrupted the woman. "_You_ say I've got a burden, but you say there's the Lord as can lighten it, and I shan't forgit. For one thing, I can see as you let Him carry _yours_."

She turned abruptly and left the room, and Meg's eyes filled with tears to think how little, after all, she loved and trusted that dear Lord who loved her and gave Himself for her.

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[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER IX.

MEG'S TEA-PARTY.

The next time Meg set about making some bread, she told Jem to stop at their neighbour's door, and tell her to come up as soon as she could.

Accordingly Mrs. Blunt soon appeared, carrying her baby in her arms, a roll of mending in one hand and her toddling child in the other.

Meg greeted her with a bright smile.

"Here you are!" she said. "I am so glad you came early, because the earlier I get to it the better. I often make it before breakfast."

"And can you bake it in your oven?"

"Yes, it is such a good little stove. I'm so glad it is not a kitchener, because they burn so much, whether you want it or not."

"I could never bake enough in my oven to make it worth while," said Mrs.

Blunt.

"I've been thinking of that," answered Meg, "and my husband says that the baker would bake it for you, he thinks, for nothing, if you made the arrangement to buy your flour there. You could make inquiries. Jem says he knew one woman who did regularly."

"I should want some large tins," said Mrs. Blunt.

"I dare say you could pick some up cheap somewhere," said Meg; "but anyway in a week you would save the price of a large tin."

"Should I?" asked Mrs. Blunt.

"Yes; Jem has been reckoning it up, and he says you would save eighteenpence or two shillings a week."

"I should like to save that," exclaimed Mrs. Blunt; "it would buy us a deal of things we have to do without now."

"That it would," said Meg, busily pouring her flour into the pan, and measuring some crushed salt into it. "See, Mrs. Blunt, to my five pounds of flour I put five half teaspoonfuls of salt and five half-pints of lukewarm water. It is very simple."

"But you haven't put the water in yet," said Mrs. Blunt.

"No, because part of that has to melt my yeast. Here it is, feel it--just as warm as new milk. There! now I pour this on the yeast and mix it well; now I make a hole in my flour and pour in my yeast and the rest of my water, and stir it round--so--round and round till it is as thick as a batter and as smooth."

Mrs. Blunt was watching intently. It looked very interesting to see Meg's clean hand going round and round, each time drawing a little flour into the yellow cream in the middle.

"It takes a long time," she remarked.

"Not a bit too long. If you are patient over this part the next will take less time, and your bread will not be lumpy."

While she spoke she plunged her two hands into the middle of the batter and began to knead in the rest of the flour, which stood up round the sides as a sort of wall; and as she kneaded she pushed the middle out and drew the sides in, to Mrs. Blunt's great astonishment.

"You see, I want to work it all smooth, and when it is in a round cushion it is done."

"Does it go into the oven at once?" asked Mrs. Blunt.

Meg laughed merrily. "No; I set it near the fire to rise, and it has to get to more than twice as high as it is now before it is ready. You will have to come up again to see it 'made up' if you want to learn the whole process."

"I'm afraid I should be a long time getting it right," said Mrs. Blunt, sighing.

"It wants experience," answered Meg; "but you would soon know; and if you like to try it, I will look in on you and give you some hints."

"Then I may come up again?" asked Mrs. Blunt, as she saw Meg turn her dough over as a final act, and cover the pan with a clean cloth. "I 'spose it's done for the present?"

"Yes," said Meg, going to the bowl to wash off the flour which clung to her hands, "and when you come up again Pattie shall have a bit of dough all to herself to make into a little loaf."

Pattie, who had stood all the while with her chin over the edge of the pan, absorbed in watching, now clapped her hands gleefully.

"You are _very_ kind, I'm sure," said Mrs. Blunt heartily. "Then you will let me know?"

"I shall not forget, and if it is good bread you shall have a loaf for the children."

"Oh!" exclaimed Mrs. Blunt, in a very gratified tone.

"Look here," said Meg, considering for a minute or two. "It is half-past ten now, and if I do not put it quite so near the fire it will not be ready till my husband has gone back to work this afternoon. I can keep it back a little. Will you come up directly your children are gone to school, and sit with me for an hour or so while I bake it? That is the best way to learn."

"Oh, thank you!" said Mrs. Blunt; "then I will."

"As I do not want my bread to be late, perhaps you would not mind coming up before you wash up your dinner-plates, then you can run down for that when the bread goes into the oven, and I'll mind the babies."

The mother was only too pleased. Somehow Meg's society was so restful; she chatted about such pleasant things; above all, she seemed to be able to look at everything as coming from a Father's hand above, who allowed even the disagreeable things to happen in truest love.

So Mrs. Blunt went down with fresh heart, and tried her hand at a saucepan of porridge herself, and succeeded as well as Meg had done, to her own great delight.

At two o'clock she once more set out to see the bread made up.

Meg had already cleared away all traces of her dinner; the kettle was on the hob, the fire had been made up, and on the table stood a clean pastry-board, a basin of flour, and a knife.

"The first thing I do when I have got out my things and washed my hands, is to b.u.t.ter my tins--dripping will do. See, here are two that exactly fit into my oven. I take a clean bit of paper and put a little k.n.o.b of dripping or b.u.t.ter on it, and rub them all over, not missing any place, or the bread will stick. Now I put the tins on the fender to warm; next I cut my dough in half,--look how full of little holes it is! that's what mother at home calls her 'lace,'--and I lift it out on to my board.

Here, Pattie, this is a little bit for you. How nice and clean mother has made your hands! Now you'll be able to eat it when it's baked. Now I work and roll this with a little flour which I have sprinkled on the board first, till it feels quite dry again and has left off sticking; this will make the bread white and keep the holes small. Hark how the bubbles break as I pinch it and roll it! There, that will do. Now I must make it into the right shape and put it into the tin."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "Here 'tis," she said, in a satisfied tone. "I knew as 'twas somewheres. Supposin' you and me was to read a bit every night?"

p. 105.]