tle Remi, beautiful flour. See what lovely flakes it makes."
Just because I was so anxious to know what the flour was for I did not dare ask. And besides I did not want her to know that I remembered that it was Shrove Tuesday for fear she might feel unhappy.
"What does one make with flour?" she asked, smiling at me.
"Bread."
"What else?"
"Pap."
"And what else?"
"Why, I don't know."
"Yes, you know, only as you are a good little boy, you don't dare say. You know that to-day is Pancake day, and because you think we haven't any butter and milk you don't dare speak. Isn't that so, eh?
"Oh, Mother."
"I didn't mean that Pancake day should be so bad after all for my little Remi. Look in that bin."
I lifted up the lid quickly and saw some milk, butter, eggs, and three apples.
"Give me the eggs," she said; "while I break them, you peel the apples."
While I cut the apples into slices, she broke the eggs into the flour and began to beat the mixture, adding a little milk from time to time. When the paste was well beaten she placed the big earthen-
