"Oh, how beautiful, Miss Barry!" exclaimed Kitty Miles. "I can do just the plain little scallop; but I never could get these other jiggers!"
Sylvie laughed, "I believe they have a name beside 'jiggers,'" in an odd, half-inquiring tone.
"O Miss Barry, we girls can't talk nice like you!" and Kitty blushed.
"I don't see why you cannot with taking a little pains. All words that are not names, and 'what-you-may-call-it,' and 'Mrs. Thingumby,' and such expressions, are the result of carelessness. If any thing has a name, that is the proper word to be used; and by being watchful one comes presently to talk in a lady-like manner. Now I will show you about these."
"Oh, my muffins!" cried Mary, rushing to the stove. They were quite brown. She tried them with the whisk.
"Some stick a little bit, Miss Morgan."
"Push the pan back to the other side. Indian requires very thorough cooking or baking, or it will be soggy, and have a moist and not agreeable taste. Try your potatoes now."
In a few moments they were done, and Kitty Miles undertook the steak. Mary let her muffins stand a moment or two, then turned them out. Two or three stuck fast, and broke: the rest were a perfect success. She was delighted beyond measure. They had no tea or coffee, but they gathered around the table, and enjoyed the meal very heartily. Sylvie desired them to ask any questions they liked; and by the time they were through, their awe of Miss Morgan had quite vanished.
Afterward followed dish-washing. This was made quite a science, as well. They had hardly finished when Mrs. Miles and a neighbor came in, and through the course of the afternoon the numbers doubled. Mary begged that they might make some muffins to take home: Miss Morgan assented, and the girls had quite a gay time. But the oven was not precisely right.
"Open the draughts a little. Although not so hot, the oven is very steady now. Close the draughts in five minutes."