“This kind of bread needs no powder. Baking-powders are used only in tea-biscuit.”
“When tea-biscuits goes in de oven deysh little bits of flat fings,” said Toddie—“deysh little bits of flat fings, but when dey comes out dey’s awful big an’ fat. What makes ’em bake big?”
“That’s what the powder is put in for,” said Mrs. Burton. “They’d be little, tasteless things if it weren’t for the powder. Bridget, work some sweetening with a little of the dough, so the boys can have some buns.”
Both boys escorted the cook to the pantry for sugar, and back again to the table, and got their noses as nearly as possible under the roller with which the sugar was crushed, and they superintended the operation of working it into the dough, and then Mrs. Burton found some very small pans in the center of which the boys put single buns which they were themselves allowed to shape. A happy inspiration came to Mrs. Burton; she brought a few raisins from the pantry and placed one upon the center of each tiny bun as it was made, and she was rewarded by a dual shriek of delight.
“Stop, Toddie!” exclaimed Mrs. Burton, suddenly noticing that Toddie was shaping his dough by rolling it vigorously between his hands, as little boys treat clay while attempting to make marbles. “If you press your dough hard it will never bake light in the world.”
TWO INQUIRING FACES HANGING OVER THE BREAD-PAN
“You mean de hot won’t make it grow big?”
“Yes.”
“Datzh too baddy. It’h awful too baddy,” said Toddie “Dere won’t be as much of ’em to eat. Tell you what—put some powder in it to help the uvvr swelly stuff.”