When the pretzel was raised and had doubled in size ’twas baked in a moderately hot oven.

Mary’s surprise and delight may easily be imagined when Sibylla, on her return from the picnic, handed her the prize she had won, a two-pound box of chocolates, remarking, “Mary, you and Aunt Sarah both got a prize—­her’s is in the box what Jake’s got.”

The box on being opened by Aunt Sarah contained a very pretty, silver-plated soup ladle, the prize offered for the best loaf of rye bread.

“Aunt Sarah,” inquired Mary one day, “do you think it pays a housekeeper to bake her own bread?”

[Illustration:  THE OLD STORE ON RIDGE ROAD]

“Certainly, it pays, my dear.  From a barrel of flour may be baked three hundred or more one-pound loaves of bread; should you pay five cents a loaf, the bread which may be made from one barrel of flour if bought from a bake shop would cost you fifteen dollars.  Now, you add to the cost of a barrel of flour a couple of dollars for yeast, salt, etc., which altogether would not possibly be more than ten dollars, and you see the housewife has saved five dollars.  It is true it is extra work for the housewife, but good, wholesome bread is such an important item, especially in a large family, I should advise the thrifty housekeeper to bake her own bread and bake less pie and cake, or eliminate less important duties, to be able to find time to bake bread.  From the bread sponge may be made such a number of good, plain cakes by the addition of currants or raisins, which are more wholesome and cheaper than richer cakes.”

“I think what you say is true, Aunt Sarah,” said Mary.

“Frau Schmidt always bakes her own bread, and she tells me she sets a sponge or batter for white bread, and by the addition of Graham flour, cornmeal or oatmeal, always has a variety on her table with a small expenditure of time and money.”

[Illustration:  A “BROD CORVEL” OR BREAD BASKET]

CHAPTER XXVIII.

FAITHFUL SERVICE.

The home-making instinct was so strongly developed in Mary that her share in the labor of cooking and baking became a pleasure.  Occasionally she had failures—­what inexperienced cook has not?—­yet they served only to spur her on to fresh efforts.  She had several small scars on her wrist caused by her arm coming in contact with the hot oven when baking.  She laughingly explained:  “One bar on my arm represents that delicious ‘Brod Torte’ which Frau Schmidt taught me to bake; the other one I acquired when removing the sponge cake from the oven which Uncle John said ‘equaled Aunt Sarah’s’ (which I consider highest praise), and the third bar I received when taking from the oven the ‘Lemon Meringue,’ Ralph’s favorite pie, which he pronounced ‘fine, almost too good to eat.’” Mary was as proud of her scars as a young, non-commissioned officer of the chevron on his sleeve, won by deeds of valor.