“Maybe you want a little more flour?” came from Dick.
“Want to flavor it with peppermint?” asked Tom. “I saw a lot of the stuff growing back of the spring.”
“You chust leave me alone!” cried Hans. “Ton’t you podder me, oder I makes some mistake.”
“I guess he has made several mistakes already,” whispered Dick to Fred, as they turned away.
“Shouldn’t wonder. But wait and see what he turns out.”
They all waited and watched Hans from a distance. The poor German youth worked hard for two hours, baking his stuff over the roaring fire. His face was flushed and he looked far from happy. At last he declared that his coffee cake must be done.
“It certainly looks like coffee,” said Tom, as he gazed at the mass, which was shaped like a flower pot and was the color of roasted coffee beans.
“All right, Hans, cut it up and let us try it!” cried Fred, cheerfully.
“Dick, you cut him up,” answered Hans, rather faintly.
Dick took the carving knife and set to work. The knife went into the “cake” with ease, but there it stuck.