"Let her undertake to live on the money we common folk have, and she'll see!" exclaimed Mrs. Stixon. "Our kind don't want to learn fussin' and fixin' of puddens and pies and such like! Good for us if we can get a mess of biled potatoes and bacon. My gals'll get along athout any such larnin'." They opened one Friday morning with seven pupils; a discouraging number, Sylvie thought, when she saw the spacious room and the nice preparations. The bashful girls sat in a little huddle, looking very much as if they were afraid of being laughed at. Miss Morgan was equal to the occasion. She made a short, sensible address, and hoped the girls who were present would interest not only their companions, but their mothers and friends. Then she questioned them a little. Had they ever boiled potatoes? At this they all laughed a little foolishly, and looked as if the art of boiling potatoes was held in rather low esteem. "The dinner for the day," announced Miss Morgan, "will be boiled potatoes, broiled steak, and corn-muffins. Which of you girls would like to try the muffins?" "I never heerd of such a thing," said one girl timidly. Sylvie pleasantly corrected the speaker. "Well, you may try," said Miss Morgan. "First, read this recipe aloud." Mary Moran stumbled through it, partly owing to ignorance, and the rest to feeling very much abashed. "Please go through it again, Mary," said Sylvie, in an encouraging tone. This time she did much better. "Now you may prepare the table and the dishes, and one of the girls may measure the meal and the flour. Put the ingredients in this dish--so. Keep your mind on the recipe. What comes next?" Mary was quite awkward. Miss Morgan corrected the slightest mistake. The other girls stood around in wondering amusement, and now and then a little titter broke out. But Mary went on, gaining courage. The tins had been set on the stove, now a bit of butter was put in each one, and stirred around, then the dough dropped in. This was quite entertaining. "What did I say about the oven?" queried Miss Morgan. The class looked aghast a moment, then one girl said quickly, "That the oven-door must be hot enough to hiss." "Right. Try it and see." It was in the proper condition. Mary slipped in the two trays of pans, shutting up the door. "To look at them, and turn them around in twelve minutes, and in twelve more to try them with a whisk," were the final directions. The potatoes were brought out next. Miss Morgan asked each girl to pare one, which they did in various uncouth ways. One girl cut off the skin in square bits, leaving a figure that would have distracted a geometrician; another ran round it rapidly, leaving in all the eyes; and out of the six potatoes there was but one neat and shapely. Miss Morgan held it up. "There is an art in so slight a thing as peeling a potato," said she. "It is very wasteful to cut it away in this manner, or this, and careless to leave in the eyes. Now each of you may pare another."