"Never mind," said I, "how near the baker's shop may be; we mean to
have all our bread made at home. It will be, we are sure, better to do
so, both on the score of health and economy."

"But I really," said the gentleman, "cannot afford to build you an
oven; it would cost me $100 at the least."

At this, H., who had resided for a short time in a house where the
bread was made at home, laughed, and said, "Really, Mr. L., you need
not fear that we wish to put you to so much expense, and it is perhaps
but fair that we should meet you half-way in the matter; so if you
will find labor we will find materials: or reverse it, if you please."

Mr. L. remembered that he had in some outhouse a quantity of "fire
bricks," and it was arranged that we should pay for the labor of
constructing a three-peck oven. This occasioned on our part an outlay
of $10, and this small sum was the source of considerable saving to us
yearly.

We were more fortunate with our bread than with our butter-making, for
Mary was a capital baker; our bread was always made from the best
flour. We all liked it much better than bakers' bread, and it was much
more nourishing. Indeed, when I was once in Kent during "hopping," and
saw that the women who resided in the neighborhood always gave up half
a day's work weekly for the purpose of going home to bake, I used to
wonder why they did not purchase their bread from a baker in the
village. I was informed by one of them to whom I put the question,
"Lord, ma'am, we could not work on bakers' bread, we should be
half-starved; it's got no _heart_ in it."