shortcake--let's have something else for lunch."

"Well," said Norah, "I guess you can have 'em." So Mildred ran for her
apron and a receipt, which, when she read it over, proved, strangely
enough, to be a rule for making not only peach but all sorts of jams.

JAM

Prepare your fruit nicely; strawberries must be washed and hulled,
peaches pared and cut up, raspberries looked over for poor ones.
When they are ready, measure

1 large cup of fruit to
1 small cup of sugar.

Mash the fruit and put it in a kettle in layers with the sugar,
and press and stir it till it is all wet and juicy. Then gently
boil it, stirring constantly from the bottom up, so the fruit will
not burn. Mash with a wooden potato masher till all is smooth.
When it has cooked nearly an hour, try a little on a cold saucer
and see if it gets firm. When it does, it is done. Some jams take
longer to cook than others, because some fruits are more juicy.

This sounded very easy indeed, and Mildred began to mash and measure at
once, and soon the jam was over the fire. But it took a long time to
cook. Norah brought a dishpan full of jelly-glasses and put them in the
sink, and Mildred washed these and dried them and arranged them on two
trays, all ready for the jam; but every moment or two she stirred the
jam well. By and by, after more than an hour, the peaches looked
transparent, and then Norah said they were done; and, sure enough, when
she hurriedly put some on a saucer and stood this on the ice in the
refrigerator to get it cold quickly, it grew a little stiff and the
edges were like jelly.

[Illustration: "I am so Proud, I want Everybody to see my Jam"]

Mildred carefully lifted the hot saucepan from the fire and began to dip
out the jam with a cup and put it in the glasses; when she finished,
there were eight of them, all filled with clear golden-pinky-brownish
jam, beautiful to look at, and, oh, so good to taste! Mildred ran for
her mother and Brownie to look at it. "I wish Father and Jack were
here," she sighed, "and Miss Betty, too. I am so proud, I want everybody
to see it."

"It really is lovely," said her mother. "I never saw any that was nicer.
Next winter we will eat it on hot buttered toast, and put it in layer
cake, and have it ready for school sandwiches."

"But only eight little, little glasses," mourned Mildred. "Why didn't I
make eight dozen of them?"

"Well, eight dozen is a