"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.