“Exactly; and the taste is far better.  Well, you have your teapot warm and your tea in it waiting, and the minute the water boils vigorously you pour it on the tea.”

“What would happen if you let it boil a while?”

“If you should taste water freshly boiled and water that has been boiling for ten minutes you’d notice a decided difference.  One has a lively taste and the other is flat.  These qualities are given to the pot of tea of course.”

“That’s all news to me,” declared James.  “I’m glad to know it.”

“I used to think ‘tea and toast’ was the easiest thing in the world to prepare until Dorothy taught me how to make toast when she was fixing invalid dishes for Grandfather after he was hurt in the fire at Chautauqua,” said Ethel Brown.  “She opened my eyes,” and she nodded affectionately at her cousin.

“There’s one thing we must learn to make or we won’t be true campers,” insisted Tom.

“What is it?  I’m game to make it or eat it,” responded Roger instantly.

“Spider cakes.”

“Spiders!  Ugh!” ejaculated Della daintily.

“Hush; a spider is a frying pan,” Ethel Brown instructed her.  “Tell us how you do them, Tom,” she begged.

“You use the kind of flour that is called ‘prepared flour.’  It rises without any fuss.”

The Ethels laughed at this description, but they recognized the value in camp of a flour that doesn’t make any fuss.

“Mix a pint of the flour with half a pint of milk.  Let your spider get hot and then grease it with butter or cotton seed oil.”

“Why not lard.”

“Lard will do the deed, of course, but butter or a vegetable fat always seems to me cleaner,” pronounced Tom wisely.

“Won’t you listen to Thomas!” cried Roger.  “How do you happen to know so much?” he inquired amazedly.

“I went camping for a whole month once and I watched the cook a lot and since then I’ve gathered ideas about the use of fat in cooking.  As little frying as possible for me, thank you, and no lard in mine!”

They smiled at his earnestness, but they all felt the same way, for the girls were learning to approve of delicacy in cooking the more they cooked.

“Go ahead with your spider cake,” urged Margaret, who was writing down the receipt as Tom gave it.

“When your buttered spider is ready you pour in half the mixture you have ready.  Spread it smooth over the whole pan, put on a cover that you’ve heated, and let the cake cook four minutes.  Turn it over and let the other side cook for four minutes.  You ought to have seen our camp cook turn over his cakes; he tossed them into the air and he gave the pan such a twist with his wrist that the cake came down all turned over and ready to let the good work go on.”

“What did he do with the other half of his batter?” asked Ethel Brown, determined to know exactly what happened at every stage of proceedings.