CHAPTER II
TOASTER MAN
IN ran the dearest, sweetest little girl.
"Oh, you poor Tea Kettle!" she cried. "You'll boil to death!" and she pulled it over to the cooler part of the stove.
Tea Kettle simmered his thanks.
"What can be burning?" she asked. "What can it be?" and she looked all over the stove.
"I do believe it's something in the oven!"
As she pulled open the oven door, out rolled the burnt potatoes.
"Now," she said, "now, for the toast," and she caught up her mother's apron from a hook, and tied it just under her arms, crossing the strings in front.
The Kitchen People held their breath to see what would happen next.
Suddenly she clapped her hands.
"The very thing!" she cried, and ran out of the room. In a minute she was back, with a little book in her hands.
"Mother was asleep," she whispered as though her mother was still in danger of being wakened by any sound—"but I just tip-toed up to the table, and got the book she's been making for my cooking lessons. This must be it—it's Mother's writing:
'The Mary Frances' First Cook Book.'
I believe—I just believe it tells about toast. Yes, here it is, right on the first page:
No. 1.—Plain Toast.
1. Cut stale bread into slices, about ½ inch thick.
2. Remove crusts.
3. Put into wire toaster.
4. Hold over a fire, moving to and fro until a golden brown color.
5. Turn, and brown the other side.
"Let's see if there is any stale bread. I should think so! a whole loaf! Now, I'll cut two slices, and since I want it to be very nice, I'll cut off the crusts. I guess that will be enough; oh, how I wish somebody was here to help me."
"There is somebody—I'll help!"
Mary Frances looked round in amazement. Seeing no one, "Why,—where? Why,—who are you?" she asked.
"I'm Tea Kettle, Miss," said Tea Kettle, lifting his lid very politely. "I'm gladly at your service, if you please."
"And I!" It was Sauce Pan.
"And I!" cried Boiler Pan.
Mary Frances could scarcely believe her ears.
"My," she said, "can you all talk? and will you help me? Isn't that grand!—But how you did s'prise me! Won't we have a lovely time!"
"Look at the fire! Look at the fire!"
"What a tiny voice!" thought the little girl,—but she quickly took the lids off the stove. Some very bright coals stared up at her.
"The fire is fine," she said aloud, and she looked all about to find where the voice came from, but she saw no one.
"Look down, please!" said the same tiny voice, this time very distinctly.
There stood the funniest little wire man, no higher than the little girl's elbow.
"You didn't see me," laughed the little man, "but I know how to make toast."
"Of course!" said the little girl, "you're—why, you're the Toaster!"
"Yes, ma'am," said the little man, with a bow, "at your service, Miss Mary Frances."
"Try me, and see what I can do," went on Toaster Man. "Just put a slice of that bread into my head, and hold me over the fire."
Mary Frances leaned over and gravely put a slice of bread in Toaster. He looked so funny standing there that she wanted to smile, but thought it wouldn't be exactly polite to so helpful a friend. But when he said, "Slide up my collar," in a thick, smothery sort of voice, she laughed aloud before she could stop, but turned the sound into a cough so quickly that Toaster Man looked up at her queerly only a moment; and she pulled the ring up until it held the bread tightly in place.
"Now, lift me up over the fire!" he demanded.
Mary Frances hesitated—she couldn't tell where to take hold of him.
"Never mind my legs," he said, as though he read her thoughts, "I'll see to them," and he folded them up so close that when Mary Frances lifted him up, she could find no sign of them.
"Oh, you'll be burnt!" she cried, as she held what Toaster Man had called his head over the bright fire.
"Not I," he laughed, "not I. I like it. It's the toast that'll be burnt, if I'm not turned over soon."
Mary Frances took the hint, and turned Toaster carefully over.
"Not too close to the coals at first, Little Miss," said the little fellow. "Now,—closer! That's it!"
"How is it?" he asked, as Mary Frances took him from the fire.
"What a beautiful piece of toast!" she cried.
"Grand-if-i-cent!" exclaimed Toaster. "Now, you do the next piece without my saying a word—but first spread that with butter, and put it in the oven. Now, you read in your book, and see if that's not the way to make Buttered Toast."
Mary Frances opened her book.
"Read it out!" said the little man.
"When I speak that way, Mother tells me to say 'Please,'" said she.
"Beg pardon," said the little man, "Please."
So Mary Frances read:
No. 2.—Buttered Toast.
1. Spread toasted bread evenly with butter.
2. Pile one slice on top of the other, and cover with a bowl.
3. Place in oven.
"That's it! that's what I told you," cried the little fellow. "I'm always right about toast. Can you make the next slice without a word more?"
"I think so," said Mary Frances; and she didn't utter a sound until she had taken the second piece out of Toaster.
"What a beautiful piece of toast!" exclaimed Toaster. "It's better than the first."
"Oh, I don't think——" Mary Frances started.
"I know!" snapped the little man. "Don't contradict me about toast! By the way," he asked, "why don't you make it into Milk Toast for your mother? it would be softer, and more palat—palat—"
"Pal-a-table," said Mary Frances.
"Yes," said he, "you know a good deal for a little girl,"—and he began to choke. Mary Frances patted him hard.
"A piece of toast?" she asked.
"No," he exclaimed in-dig-nant-ly, "a long word always makes me choke. That's why I seldom use them. Now, please read about Milk Toast."
"If you know——" sug-gest-ed Mary Frances.
"Well, it's more like real grown-up people to have it out of a book," said the little man. "Go on!"
And Mary Frances read from her little Cook Book.
No. 3.—Milk Toast.
| 1 tablespoon butter |
| 1 tablespoon flour |
| 1 cup milk |
| ¼ teaspoon salt |
| 3 slices toast |
1. Make ready the toast.
2. Heat the milk until smoking hot.
3. Melt the butter in a small saucepan.
4. Throw the flour into the butter. Cook until it bubbles a little, stirring all the time. Take from the fire.
5. Pour 1/3 the milk upon the butter and flour, a little at a time, stirring with the back of a spoon to press out the lumps.
6. Place over fire, and gradually stir in the remaining milk.
7. Add the salt. Let boil a minute.
8. Put slices of toast in a heated dish; pour the sauce over and serve hot.
All measures are made level with the top of cup or spoon. To measure level spoonful:
Fill spoon heaping full, and level it off with the back of a knife.
For half spoonful, cut through lengthwise.
For quarter spoonful, divide a half spoonful across.
A saltspoon is 1/8 teaspoon.
"That's right!" said Toaster Man. "That's the way my grandmother made it. If I were you, I'd make only half of that sauce for only two slices of toast. You did so well with the Plain Toast; you go right ahead with the Milk Toast, and see if you can make it all yourself, and if you need any help, I'll be on the spot in a twinkle. Follow carefully what your little Cook Book says. You know you must measure everything even with the top of the spoon, or cup."
So Mary Frances did exactly what the recipe told her.
As she poured the last of the sauce over the toast, which she had put in a pretty dish, the little man, who had been running here and there, watching everything she did, shouted, "Hurrah!" At least, he tried to shout, but his voice would scarcely reach to a grown-up person's ear. "You are the best pupil I ever had!"
"Have you had many?" asked Mary Frances.
"You are the only one," said Toaster. "Why?"
"Nothing," said Mary Frances.
"I should think," said the little man, standing on his toes, to look over the edge of the dish, "that that Milk Toast would taste awful good!"
"Won't you try it?" asked Mary Frances. She was very much afraid he would, but she wanted to show her gratitude for his kindness.
"Oh, no," sighed the little man, "I never eat."
"You never eat!" exclaimed Mary Frances.
"It may seem strange to you," said the little man, "but everything that is put into my head falls out backwards, and I simply can't eat."
"It must be dreadful!" said Mary Frances.
"It keeps me very thin," complained Toaster, "but if I'm not mistaken, your mother will eat all that toast,—if she gets it while it's hot."
"Oh, I hope so," said Mary Frances; "and I thank you so very very much."
"Good-bye!" added the little girl, as she went out of the kitchen, followed by the admiring gaze of all the Kitchen People.
