All of the little loaves were baked and placed in front of the girls, the pans being numbered so that each loaf returned to its trembling maker. It was strange that in spite of science the loaves did not look exactly alike. Molly’s was beautiful, but had she not had her hand in Aunt Mary’s dough ever since she could climb up to the table and cut out little “bis’it wif a thimble”? Some of them looked bumpy and some stringy, but poor Melissa’s was a strange dark color and had not risen. “Miss Hathaway, did you follow the directions in your experiment?” “Yes, Miss Morse, to the best of my ability,” answered Melissa. And, then flushing and becoming excited, she dropped into her familiar mountain speech. “Some low-down sneak has drapped some sody in we’un’s pannikin. I mean, oh, I mean, some ill-bred person has put saleratus in my little bowl. I have been raised on too much saleratus in the bread, and I know it.” And the proud mountain girl, who had not minded the laughter caused by her appearance, burst into tears over the failure of her bread-making and fled from the room. Miss Morse was shocked and sorry that such a scene should have occurred in her class, but was determined to investigate the matter. She dismissed the class without a word; but, as Molly was leaving the room, she requested her to stop a moment. “Miss Brown, this is a very unfortunate thing to have occurred in this class. Domestic Science seems to be an easy prey to the practical joke, and when once it is started it is a difficult matter to weed out. I am particularly sorry for it to have been played on Miss Hathaway, who is so earnest and anxious to learn. Miss Walker has told me much about her, and the girl’s appearance alone is fine enough to interest one. I could not help seeing by your countenance, which is a very speaking one, my dear, that you knew something about this so-called joke. Now, Miss Brown, I ask you as a friend to tell me what you know, and, if you are not willing, I demand it of you as an instructor and member of the faculty of Wellington.” Molly, who had been as pale as death ever since Melissa’s mortification and outbreak, now flushed crimson, held her breath a minute to get control of her voice, and then answered with as much composure as she could muster: “Miss Morse, I have gone through four years at Wellington and have happened to know of a great many scrapes the different students have got themselves in, but never yet have I been known to tell tales, and I could hardly start now. I do know who did the dastardly trick, and am glad that Melissa had recourse to her native dialect to express her feelings about the person who was mean enough to do it; ‘low-down sneak’ is exactly what she was.”