promised to the virtuous.
At this point the bell rang, and the entire population went down to
dinner, which meal was enlivened by each of the boys giving
Daisy a list of things he would like to have cooked for him as fast
as he earned them. Daisy, whose faith in her stove was unlimited,
promised everything, if Aunt Jo would tell her how to make them.
This suggestion rather alarmed Mrs. Jo, for some of the dishes
were quite beyond her skill wedding-cake, for instance, bull’s-eye
candy; and cabbage soup with herrings and cherries in it, which
Mr. Bhaer proposed as his favorite, and immediately reduced his
wife to despair, for German cookery was beyond her.
Daisy wanted to begin again the minute dinner was done, but she
was only allowed to clear up, fill the kettle ready for tea, and wash
out her apron, which looked as if she had a Christmas feast. She
was then sent out to play till five o’clock, for Uncle Fritz said that
too much study, even at cooking stoves, was bad for little minds
and bodies, and Aunt Jo knew by long experience how soon new
toys lose their charm if they are not prudently used.
Everyone was very kind to Daisy that afternoon. Tommy promised
her the first fruits of his garden, though the only visible crop just
then was pigweed; Nat offered to supply her with wood, free of
charge; Stuffy quite worshipped her; Ned immediately fell to work
on a little refrigerator for her kitchen; and Demi, with a
punctuality beautiful to see in one so young, escorted her to the
nursery just as the clock struck five. It was not time for the party to
begin, but he begged so hard to come in and help that he was
allowed privileges few visitors enjoy, for he kindled the fire, ran
errands, and watched the progress of his supper with intense
interest. Mrs. Jo directed the affair as she came and went, being
very busy putting up clean curtains all over the house.
“Ask Asia for a cup of sour cream, then your cakes will be light
without much soda, which I don’t like,” was the first order.
Demi tore downstairs, and returned with the cream, also a
puckered-up face, for he had tasted it on his way, and found it so
sour that he predicted the cakes would be uneatable. Mrs. Jo took
this occasion to deliver a short lecture from the step-ladder on the
chemical properties of soda, to which Daisy did not listen, but
Demi did, and understood it, as he proved by the brief but
comprehensive reply:
“Yes, I see, soda turns sour things sweet, and the fizzling up makes
them light. Let’s see you do it, Daisy.”
“Fill that bowl nearly full of flour and add a little salt to it,”
continued Mrs. Jo.
“Oh dear, everything has to have salt in it, seems to me,” said
Sally, who was tired of opening the pill-box in which it was kept.
“Salt is like good-humor, and nearly every thing is better for a
pinch of it, Posy,” and Uncle Fritz stopped as he passed, hammer
in hand, to drive up two or three nails for Sally’s little pans to hang
on.
“You are not invited to tea, but I’ll give you some cakes, and I
won’t be cross,” said Daisy, putting up her floury little face to
thank him with a kiss.
“Fritz, you must not interrupt my cooking class, or I’ll come in and
moralize when you are teaching Latin. How would you like that?”
said Mrs. Jo, throwing a great chintz curtain down on his head.
“Very much, try it and see,” and the amiable Father Bhaer went
singing and tapping about the house like a mammoth woodpecker.
“Put the soda into the cream, and when it ‘fizzles,’ as Demi says,
stir it into the flour, and beat it up as hard as ever you can. Have
your griddle hot, butter it well, and then fry away till I come back,”
and Aunt Jo vanished also.
Such a clatter as the little spoon made, and such a beating as the
batter got, it quite foamed, I assure you; and when Daisy poured