“All right,” said Kitty, and having already put in three cups of flour, she added to the mixture three heaping tablespoonfuls of baking powder.

“Now for the raisins,” she said.

“I didn’t know sponge cake ever had raisins in it,” said Marjorie.

“It doesn’t, usually,” said Kitty, “but I thought it would add an extra touch.”

She stirred them in, and then they poured the batter into a cake tin.

“It does look lovely,” said Midget, tasting it with a spoon.  “It tastes pretty good, but not as good as it looks.  I guess it’ll be lovely when it’s baked.  Open the oven, King.”

King threw open the oven door with a flourish, and the girls pushed the big pan inside.

“Shut it quick!” warned Kitty.  “The cake falls unless you do!  It must bake three-quarters of an hour.”

And then they all waited patiently for the time to take it out.

CHAPTER XV

A MOTOR RIDE

“Isn’t it done yet?” asked King, after half an hour had elapsed.

“Nope,” returned Kitty, positively.  “It can’t be done till three-quarters of an hour, and it’s only a half.”

“Smells done!” exclaimed Marjorie, sniffing “I believe it’s burning, Kit.”

“Pshaw, it can’t be burning.  That isn’t a hot fire, is it, King?”

“No,” replied King, after removing one of the range covers and scrutinizing the fire.  “That’s what the cook books call a moderate fire.”

“Then that’s all right,” and Kitty wagged her head in satisfaction.  “Sponge cake requires a mod-rit fire.”

“But it’s leaking out, Kitty!” cried Marjorie, dancing about the kitchen.  “Oh, look, it’s leaking out!”

Sure enough, smoke was coming out through the edges of the oven door, and a sticky substance began to ooze through.

“The door isn’t shut quite tight,” began Kitty, but before she could finish, King flung the oven door wide open.

“Better see what’s up!” he said, and as the smoke poured out in a volume, and then cleared away a little, a strange sight confronted them.

The cake dough had apparently multiplied itself by ten, if not more.  It had risen and run all over the sides of the pan, had dripped down through the grating to the bottom of the oven, and had bubbled up from there all over the sides and door.  In fact the oven was lined with a sticky, sizzling, yellow material that had turned brown in some places, and was burned black in others.

“Something must have gone wrong,” said Kitty, calmly, as she looked at the ruins.  “I was almost sure it didn’t need any baking powder.  That’s what blew it up so.”

“H’m,” said King.  “I don’t believe I care for any.  Wonder what became of the raisins?”

“You can see them here and there,” said Marjorie.  “Those burned black spots are raisins.  Phew! how it smokes!  I’m going out.”