"O, come now--no need to cry all over 'em--they're flat enough without any extra wetting," Sadie exclaimed after a moment's silence. "You just fling them out an' make some more after breakfast. I bet you'll never leave out the baking powder again." "I never, never _could_ again," sobbed Elizabeth. "O, forget it, an' come on in to breakfast," Sadie said with more sympathy in her heart than in her words. "I don't want any--I couldn't eat a mouthful. You take in the coffee, Sadie--everything else is on the table." "Well, you just make more cakes then. They'll be all right--the next ones--I know they will," and coffee-pot in hand, Sadie whisked into the dining-room. And the next cakes were all right. Sadie gloated over them as Elizabeth spread the icing, and added the fancy touches with pink sugar and citron. When she had gone away with the cakes Elizabeth cooked and cleaned, washed dishes, and swept, but all the time her thoughts followed Sadie. She dared not let herself hope, and yet the time seemed endless. But at last the front door slammed, there were flying feet in the hall, and Sadie burst into the kitchen, flushed and triumphant. "O--O Sadie--did you--will they----?" Elizabeth stumbled over the words, her breath catching in her throat. Sadie tossed her basket on the table and bounced into the nearest chair. "Did I, and will they?" she taunted gaily. "Well, I guess I _did_ and they _will_, Elizabeth Page!" "O, do tell me, Sadie--quick!" Elizabeth begged, and she listened with absorbed attention to the story of Sadie's experiences, and could hardly believe that Mr. Burchell had really agreed to sell for her. "I bet Miss Laura had been talking to him," Sadie ended, "for he asked me if I knew her and then said right away he'd take your cakes every Wednesday and Saturday. _Now_ what you got to say?" "N-n-nothing," cried Elizabeth, "only--if I can really, _really_ sell them, I'll be most too happy to live!" All that day Elizabeth went around with a song in her heart. The first consignment of cakes sold promptly, and then orders began to come in. It meant extra work for her, but if only she could keep on selling she would not mind that. And as the weeks slipped away, every Saturday she added to the little store of bills in her bureau drawer. Even when she had paid for her materials and Mr. Burchell's commission, and for a girl who helped her with the Saturday work, there was so much left that she counted it and recounted it with almost incredulous joy. All this her very own--she who never before had had even one dollar of her own! O, it was a lovely world after all, Elizabeth told herself joyfully.