Ruey Thorne, unlike some young wives, did not think it interesting to
profess utter ignorance of domestic matters; on the contrary, she had
an ambition to excel as a housekeeper. She had a general knowledge of
many things, but every housekeeper knows that practice only brings
perfection. It is one thing to watch Bridget making bread a few
times, and another thing entirely to make it one's self. So much of
Ruey's knowledge was theory, not yet reduced to practice, that she
imagined herself much more skilful than she really was, consequently
she did not claim her husband's forbearance on account of
inexperience. Philip was not rich, and she had a desire to be an
economical wife, so she did not employ an experienced cook and
chambermaid, but tried to accomplish it all by the aid of a raw
German girl.

"Of course I shall want to direct all my work," she had remarked with
housewifely pride. If Philip had only understood it all a little
better, he need not have brought out his mother's veteran cakes in
such cruel comparison with these very young ones.

That day was not a very comfortable one for either of them. The blue
eyes flashed out a tear occasionally, and she told herself, "Who
would have thought that Philip cared so much for eating! His mother's
cakes indeed! As if anybody could equal my dear precious mother in
anything!" While he told himself that he "wouldn't have thought Ruey
would have flashed up in that way for so slight a cause, and to him,
too, humph! He would just like to have her taste his mother's cakes;
it would open her eyes a little."

Later in the day they told the same parties, "I'm just ashamed of
myself that I got spunky about such a little thing, I wish Philip
would come. I'll have muffins for tea just to please him. I know I
can make muffins;" and "Poor little Ruey, I went off like a bear this
morning; I must hurry home; I'll just step in at Barnard's and get
that little panel of lilies for her."

So the muffins and lilies were laid, peace offerings on the domestic
altar, and the skies were clear again.

The next morning Ruey betook herself to her neat little kitchen to
reconstruct those cakes. She would see if it were not possible to
suit her husband in this. "Let me see, he said they were too thick; I
will thin them then. He said they were sour and bitter; sugar is
sweet and ought to remedy that." So in went the water to thin them,
and the sugar to sweeten them. "He said," she further mused,