"But sometimes the oven was too hot," said Matilda; "and other times she said it was not hot enough."
"Of course!" said the housekeeper; "and then again other times she forgot to look at it, maybe, and left her cake in too long. The cake couldn't knock at the door of the oven to be let out; that'd be too much to ask. Now look at yourn, dear."
Matilda opened the oven door and shut it again.
"What's the appearance of it?"
"It is coming up beautifully. But it isn't up in the middle yet."
"The fire's just right," said the housekeeper.
"But how can you tell, Miss Redwood?" said Matilda, standing by the stove with a most careful set of wrinkles on her little brow.
"Tell?" said the housekeeper; "just as you tell anything else; after you've seen it fifty times, you know."
Matilda began a painful calculation of how often she could make something to bake, and how long it would be till fifty times had made her wise in the matter; when an inner door opened, and the minister himself came upon the scene. Matilda coloured, and looked a little abashed; the housekeeper smiled.
"I am very glad to see you here, Tilly," Mr. Richmond said, heartily. "What are you and Miss Redwood doing here?"