"Salaeratus?"
"That's it."
"We use soda at our house."
"Salaeratus is good enough for me," said Miss Redwood; "and I know what it'll do; so I'm never put out in my calculations. Now when it foams up—see,—now mix your cake, dear, as quick as you like. Stop—wait—let's get the molasses in. Now, go on. I declare, having two pair o' hands kind o' puts one out. Stir it up; don't be afraid."
Matilda was not afraid, and was very much in earnest. The gingerbread was quickly mixed, and for a few minutes there was busy work, buttering the pans and putting the mixture in them, and setting the pans in the oven. Then Matilda washed her hands; the housekeeper put the flour and spices away; and the two sat down to watch the baking.
"It'll be good," said the housekeeper.
"I hope it will," said Matilda.
"I know 'twill," said Miss Redwood. "You do your part right; and these sort o' things—flour, and butter, and meat, and potatoes, and that—don't never disapint you. That's one thing that is satisfactory in this world."
"But mamma has her cake spoiled in the oven sometimes."
"'Twarn't the oven's fault," said Miss Redwood. "Did ye think it was? Ovens don't do that for me, never."