"Sixteen! Laws, chile, I's a mudder in Israel. I got chilluns and grandchilluns. I ain't been sixteen since I can 'member. But, lawsy,—a young un of sixteen can't make no cake worth eatin'!"
"But we can, if you teach us, Maria," said Dotty, with tactful flattery.
"Well, mebbe dat's so, if I do the most of it, and you jes' bring me the things."
"No, that won't do; we must do it ourselves, but you must show us how."
At last they convinced Maria of her part in the undertaking, and with more or less good-natured grumbling, she proceeded to enlighten the girls in the mysteries of cake making.
The old cook was not trammelled by definite recipes and her rules seemed to be "a little of dis," and "a right smart lot of dat."
But, even so, she was a good teacher, and at the end of the first lesson, the girls had each a round cake, plain, but light and wholesome, well-baked and delicately browned.
These were proudly exhibited at the family luncheon, and were at once appropriated by Bob and Bert, who immediately constituted themselves a Court of Final Judgment, and declared their intention of eating all the preliminary cakes that would be made during the week's lessons.
So interested did the girls become, that every morning they spent in the kitchen.
Mr. Rose expressed a mock terror lest his bills for butter and eggs should land him in the poor-house, but the cake-making went on, and more and more elaborate confections were turned out by the rapidly progressing cooks.