II. The Staff of Life
“Father,” said Wallace, as the family sat about the supper table that evening, “a very important man called at the door this morning before we went to school.”
“He did! Who was he?” asked Mr. Duwell.
“Guess who,” said Ruth. “He left us the most wonderful and useful article sold in any store in this city.”
“Who was he? What was it?” Mr. Duwell pretended to be very curious.
“Guess! See if you can guess!”
“Let me see—oh, yes, it must have been the mayor with a pound of butter.”
“Guess again,” shouted the children.
“A policeman, with a bottle of ink.”
“No, guess again!”
“I give it up.”
“The bread man with that loaf of bread,” cried the children, pointing to the loaf on the table.
“Well, well, I believe you are right, children,” said their father. “I certainly ought to have guessed, although I never thought of the bread man as a very important man before.”
“Mother explained it to us this morning and said that you would tell us about the wheat fields and bake ovens,” spoke up Ruth.
“I certainly will, children,” said their father, looking pleased. “Let me see; what is this made of?” he asked, picking up a piece of bread.
“Flour.”
“Yes, what kind?”
“Wheat flour.”
“Correct; so this is wheat bread. What other kinds of bread are there?”
“Rye bread, bran bread, graham bread.”
“Yes; and in Europe bread is often made of oats and barley.”
“Bread is sometimes called by another name,” said their mother; “did you ever hear of it? The staff——”
“The staff of life,” finished the children.
“I have an idea,” cried their father suddenly. “The Spotless Bakery is about three squares up the street. It is open in the evening. I know the manager. Let us go up there to see how they make bread.”
“Hurrah for dad! Fine, come on!” cried Wallace.
“I wish mother could go,” Ruth said.
Her mother shook her head; “No, dear, I’ll not go this time, but thank you for thinking of it.”
“We won’t be long, mother, and we’ll tell you about everything when we get home,” said Wallace, as the three left the house.