Marjorie at Seacote

"How many have you so far?" asked Midget, greatly interested.

"Well, only this one; but it's sponge cake, you know. I shall have more later."

"Yes, of course," said Midget, politely, and suddenly feeling that her younger sister was getting very grown-up, with her recipe book and her sponge cake.

"Now," proceeded Kitty, "if I'm to show you, Midget, you must pay close attention."

"I will,—oh, I will!"

"First, you break the eggs, and separate them, white from yolk, like this,—see!"

But whether she was rattled at having such an interested audience, or whether she was not very expert as yet, Kitty couldn't make the eggs "separate" neatly. Every one she broke persisted in spilling out its yellow and white together.

"Let me try," said Marjorie, but her efforts were not much more successful. Bits of shell would fall in the bowl, and even if she got most of the white in safely, some yellow would spill in, too.

"Does it matter much?" asked King.

"Oh, I don't believe so," said Kitty. "I guess we'll beat the eggs all up together, white and yellow both."

Kitty put in the Dover eggbeater with an air of experience, and whisked its wheel "round and round."

"Let me in, too," said Midget. "There's another beater I found in the cupboard."

There was room in the big bowl for both beaters, and the two girls whizzed the wheels around like mad.

"Hold on!" cried King. "You're flirting that yellow stuff all over!"

"Well, anyway, it's well beaten," declared Kitty, looking at the frothy yellow mass with satisfaction. "Now we put in the flour,—no, the sugar, I think."

"Butter?" suggested Marjorie.

"No, there's no butter in it. This is sponge cake."

Properly subdued, Marjorie awaited orders.

"Sugar," Kitty decided at last; "and bring a cup."

Midget brought the cup, and Kitty measured the sugar, and dumped it into the bowl of egg.

"I can't think whether it's three or four cups full," she said, holding a cup full uncertainly over the bowl.

"Dump it in!" advised King. "I like 'em pretty sweet."

So in went the sugar, and Midget was allowed to stir, while Kitty measured flour.

"We have to sift this four times," she announced, with an air of great wisdom. "I'll do this part."

She did, but she was so energetic about it, and the flour sieve so uncertain on its three iron legs, that much of the flour flew over the table, the floor, and the clothing of the workers.

"Hold up, Kit!" cried Marjorie, as a cloud of flour almost blinded her. "I can't see to beat, if you fly that flour around so!"

"Well, it has to be sifted four times," apologized Kitty, and turned it into the sieve again.

Much was lost in transit, and King declared it was already sifted as fine as it would ever be, but Kitty was unmoved by comment or criticism.

"Now it's all right," she said, peering into the pan of finally prepared flour, and ignoring the white dust that was all over everything. "But first a cup of hot water must go in."

"I'll pour it," said King, rising quickly, and taking the tea-kettle from Kitty, who was in imminent danger of scalding herself.

"Just a cup full!" said Kitty, warningly, as the hot water ran over the brimming cup and fell to the floor.

"Never mind," said King, "we'll only use what's in the cup," and carrying it as carefully as possible he poured it into the bowl of batter that Marjorie was faithfully beating.

"Oh, not all at once!" cried Kitty. "It should have been put in little by little."

"Can't help it now," said Midget, cheerfully. "I guess it won't matter. Now in with the flour, Kit; and you must have baking powder."

"I don't think Eliza put in any baking powder," said Kitty, dubiously.

"Oh, she must have!" said Midget. "That's what baking powder is for,—to bake with. It's on that shelf, Kitty."

Kitty was uncertain about the baking powder, so took Marjorie's advice.

"But I don't know how much," she said, as she opened the tin box.

"About a tablespoonful to a cup of flour," said Marjorie. "I think I heard Mother say that once." She was not at all sure, but she greatly wanted to help Kitty if possible.

"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