Maria set the dish of beefsteak in the oven to get hot,
and Matilda made the coffee. She knew quite well how to do that. Then
she came to the table where Maria was preparing the potatoes to fry.
Maria's knife was going chop, chop, very fast.

"O Maria! you should have peeled them," Matilda exclaimed, in dismay.

"Peeled!" said Maria, stopping short.

"Certainly. Why, you knew that, Maria. Potatoe parings are not good to
eat."

"It takes ages to peel such little potatoes," said Maria.

"But you cannot eat them without being peeled," said Matilda.

"Yes, you can; it won't make any difference. I will fry them so brown,
nobody will know whether they have skins on or not."

Matilda doubted very much the feasibility of this plan; but she left
Maria and went off to make sure that the fires in the other rooms were
burning right and everything in proper trim. Then she sat down in a
rocking-chair in the eating-room to rest; wishing very earnestly that
there was somebody to help who knew more about business than either she
or Maria. How were they to get along? And she had promised her mother.
And yet more, Matilda felt sure that just this work had been given to
her and Maria to do by the Lord himself. Therefore they could do it for
Him. Therefore, all the more, Matilda wanted to do it in the very
nicest and best way possible. She wished she had attended when she had
seen her mother cooking different things; now she might have known
exactly how to manage. And that reminded her, Maria's beef and potatoes
must be done. She ran into the kitchen.

"There!" said Maria. "Can you see the skins now?"

"They are brown enough," said Matilda. "But, Maria, they'll be very
hard!"

"Never you mind!" said Maria, complacently.

"Have you looked at your beefsteak?"

"No; but it must be hot before now."

Maria opened the oven door; and then, with an exclamation, seized a
cloth and drew out the dish of meat. The dish took their attention
first. It was as brown as Maria's potatoes. It had gone into the oven
white.

"It is spoiled," said Matilda.

"Who would have thought the oven was so hot!" said Maria. "Won't it
come all right with washing?"

"You might as well wash your beefsteak," said Matilda, turning away.

If the dish had gone in white, the meat had also gone in juicy; and if
the one was brown the other was a chip.

"This will not do for breakfast," said Maria, lugubriously.

"It is like your potatoes," said Matilda, with