First locking the store, and making up her mind that no call, however insistent, would tempt her to leave her task, Nancy promptly set about baking her cake. It was no trouble to find the cook book, Mrs. Brandon had found a small shelf suitable for that in the open pantry. Also, the required ingredients were all at hand, and the creaming of the butter and sugar, according to the first rule, Nancy executed with something like skill, for she had strong young hands and the spoon in her grasp quickly beat the butter and sugar together in a perfectly smooth paste.
Nancy promptly set about baking her cake.
Then she put the flour in the sieve. In doing this she made a slight mistake, for no pan nor plate had been placed under the sieve and consequently a pretty little layer of the sifted flour showered out upon her table before she could get a receptacle under the utensil.
“I had better measure over again,” Nancy decided, feeling that the uncertainty of guessing at the lost flour might spoil her cake. So this time she put in her baking powder, salt and flour, and sifted all into a little pudding pan. Separating the eggs, yolks from whites, was not quite so easily accomplished, but even that was finally managed, and now Nancy knew it was time to light the gas oven.
Next, three-fourths of a cup of milk was added to the creamed butter and sugar, the egg yolks added to that and all well beaten. Then the flour was carefully turned in, while beating all together Nancy felt really elated at the prospect in sight.
“I’m sure this will be fine,” she was congratulating herself, “perhaps even better than a store cake. And I know how to make the maple icing—I’m glad I have done that much before, at any rate,” she admitted ruefully.
The soft yellow mixture did indeed look promising, but now came the time to fold in the whites of the eggs.
“Fold in,” repeated Nancy, somewhat puzzled. “How shall I fold it in?”
She looked at the batter and she looked at the frothy egg whites. To fold that in would surely mean to spoil all the nice, white, snowy mound of froth. Nancy hated to do it, but she finally spilled it into the bowl full, and started to beat it all over again. The batter seemed rather thin and Nancy decided to add a little more flour. Just here was where her inexperience threatened disaster, but the trial so fascinated the little cook that she did a few other things not proposed by the recipe, but all of which seemed reasonable to her.