my secret! I was to have the pleasure of surprising your father when my plants were growing up.”
“Ah, the poor disappointed little mother!” said I. “Never mind! I am charmed to hear about it. Only do tell me, where did those seeds come from?”
“Out of my magic bag, of course!” replied she. “And each time I have gone for potatoes, I have sown seeds in the ground which was dug up to get them; and I have planted potatoes also.”
“Well done you wise little woman!” I exclaimed. “Why you are a model of prudence and industry!”
“But,” continued she, “I do not half like the appearance of those tobacco-graters you have brought. Is it possible you are going to make snuff? Do, pray, let us make sure of abundance of food for our mouths, before we think of our noses!”
“Make your mind easy, my wife,” said I. “I have not the remotest intention of introducing the dirty, ridiculous habit of snuffing into your family! Please to treat my graters with respect, however, because they are to be the means of providing you with the first fresh bread you have seen this many a long day.”
“What possible connection can there be between bread and tobacco-graters? I cannot imagine what you mean, and to talk of bread where there are no ovens is only tantalising.”
“Ah, you must not expect real loaves,” said I. “But on these flat iron plates I can bake flat cakes or scones, which will be excellent bread; I mean to try at once what I can do with Ernest's roots. And first of all, I want you to make me a nice strong canvas bag.”
This the mother willingly undertook to do, but she evidently had not much faith in my powers as a baker, and I saw her set on a good potful of potatoes before beginning to work, as though to make sure of a meal without depending on my bread.
Spreading a large sail-cloth on the ground, I summoned my boys and set to work. Each took a grater and a supply of well-
