cakes."

"Well, as the sayin' is: 'Patience an' perseverance can git away with
most anything,'" observed the Countess, naively.

The Little Doctor retired behind her handkerchief.

"My stars alive, I do b'lieve my bread's beginnin' t' scorch!" cried
the Countess, and ran to see. The Little Doctor followed her inside
and sat down.

"We must make a list of the things we'll need, Louise. You--"

"Dell! Oh-h. Dell!" The voice of the Old Man resounded from the parlor.

"I'm in the kitchen!" called she, remaining where she was. He tramped
heavily through the house to her.

"I'll send the rig in, t'morrow, if there's anything yuh want," he
remarked. "And if you'll make out a list uh dope, I'll send the order
in t' the Falls. We've got plenty uh saws an' cold chisels down in the
blacksmith shop--you can pick out what yuh want." He dodged and grinned.
"Got any cake, Countess?"

"Well, there ain't a thing cooked, hardly. I'm going t' bake up
something right after dinner. Here's some sponge cake--but it ain't
fit t' eat, hardly. I let Dell look in the oven, 'cause my han's
was all over flour, an' she slammed the door an' it fell. But yuh
can't expect one person t' know everything--an' too many han's can't
make decent soup, as the sayin' is, an' it's the same way with cake."