“I am doing this, Marta, because I do not know this flour. It may be very new or damp; by drying it I shall be on the safe side. In cold weather you must warm it always, so that the water, yeast, and flour are all about the same temperature.” When the yeast was quite dissolved by stirring, she put into the water one tea-spoonful of salt and two of sugar, made a hole in the flour and poured the liquid in, and the whole made a soft dough which slightly stuck to her hands. “If it is necessary just shake in a little flour from the dredger; never throw it in by the handful, as the less flour you work with the better.” As Molly spoke she steadied the bowl with one hand and with the other worked the dough with her fist from the side to the middle, so that in five minutes what had been the under part was all brought over to the top, and the whole was smooth and very elastic to the touch. Marta watched with interest and, as Molly could see, surprise. “My mother always made her bread thin at night, and put in more flour in the morning.” “Yes, but your mother and mine had no certainty that the yeast was good, and it was better to ‘prove it’ by using part of the flour for a sponge than to waste the whole, but now we use compressed yeast, which we are _sure_ is good if fresh.” Marta did not look convinced. She doubtless fancied it was some new-fangled notion of Molly’s. The bread was left, covered with a clean cloth, on the table free from draught, for it was a mild night and she knew it would be risen well in the morning without going into a warm spot. The next morning, as it was Marta’s first, Molly was up and down-stairs a few minutes after her, and found she had taken away the ashes and was struggling with the fire; with Molly’s help, however, it was soon burning in the stove. “Now brush off the stove quickly before it gets hot, and do so every morning, and on Saturday it needs thorough cleaning.” Molly looked at the bread as she spoke. “Fill the kettle now, after you pour out the water left in it, set it in the hole of the stove, and then look at the bread before I touch it that you may see how it should be. It is quite light, as you see, more than double the size it was last night; now while you go and dust the dining-room, brushing up any crumbs there may be first, I will work the bread over, then you can come here and sweep your kitchen and the piazzas. Molly worked the bread over faithfully for five minutes,—had the quantity been larger, of course the time would have been in proportion,—and then she set it in a warm spot back of the range, and went herself into the parlor to arrange it, knowing Marta would not be so quick this first morning as she hoped she might become later. At seven o’clock the work was done, and Molly told Marta she must do every morning exactly as this morning.