The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1928-11-23

who could make the best loaf of bread
in all that community, had q fame
that was quite as genuine as CALI
Curcis, If not as far-reaching.
AT sociable, banquet or fair, Sophro-
MAS bread always met with praise
and appreciation. II she took gentle
pleasure and had quiet pride in her
accomplishment, she was fully entitled
to do SO.
She was a small, gray, pointed
chinned woman, who always wore
gray and looked. as she fitted about,
like bit Of blown thistledown. She
lived in tiny white house which was
frightened In summer by girdIe of
roses, and in winter looked SO much
like small snowbank that 1t might
well have been taken for one. Sophro-
MIA had little money to live on
which she added to by baking bread
for anybody who required it. And
good many people did require it, from
Mrs Macleod, who lived at the Ter
race, to little Emily Buckbee, who
sewed, lived In two rooms, and had no
conveniences for baking.
It was Viola Rush who conceived the 1
idea that there was something secret
in the process of Sophronia's bread
making, some mystery which she care
fully guarded. She suggested this
suspicion to Mrs. Graves as they sat
together on Mrs. Graves porch one
breezy afternoon.
.I'd give the world to know what
is in that recipe" Viola said. She
was a tall. thin woman with little dark
hairs growing on her chin and upper
lip. She was crocheting nervously and
rocking faster than she crocheted. Oc-
casionally her chair approached too
close to Mrs. Graves and then she
jerked away.
Mrs. Graves smiled at Viola. She
was large, calm, and judicious too
much, interested in her own affairs to
care much about anybody else's.
s'It's the yeast, l know 1t is" went
on Viola. "She has got some trick of
making yeast that the rest Of US don't
know about. And we will never know
about it, for it's a secret, and ,phro-
MIA Blair will never give 1t up"
Il guess she doesn't use any ingredi-
ents the rest Of us don't know about"
said Mrs. Graves. s'She's just good
hand at making bread, that's all. I'm
not, I'm ashamed to say. oh, my
bread eats well enough, but it isn't
what it should be-"
'Why don't you ask her for her
recipe?" demanded Viola.
aWhy, / did once. and she said it
was just like mine, no different"
"And you believed herI OF course.
she wouldn't give away her secret to
anybody. should say not. You are
Awfully easy, Mrs. Graves: too easy
for your own good. Now. If lived
next door to Sophronia Blair she
Z wouldn't gather half the grapes OF
my vines every season." 4
Mrs. Graves colored.
s'Why, it drops over on her side and
there's plenty OF grapes, She can have
them for all Of me-"
She wouldn't let You pick her
grapes. know she wouldn't"
.'Oh, you've got the wrong idea Of
Sophronia, Mrs. Rush. She's good as
gold. I've lived here beside her for
twenty years and we've never had
word"
Mrs. Graves assumed the expression
of not intending to say anything more,
and after a moment the conversation
changed to something else.
{ After Viola had gone the things she
had said and inferred required to Mrs.
Graves. Might 1t not be true that So
phronia had withheld the real secret
If her success in bread-making when
she had given her the recipe? pinch
of this or lump of that might make
all the difference in the world. Mrs.
Graves hated to believe that Sophronia
would do such thing and yet Viola
had instilled in her toxin for which
there was no adequate counteractant.
sI'll go out and dig some dande-
lions and get it off my mind" she
thought, and taking pan and knife
went into the yard.
1t was pleasant to kneel on the
grass and dig into the warm. dry
earth and bring out the rich plants
with their fresh, herby odor. A dish
of pork-and-greens Was there any
thing better? Mrs. Graves thought not.
Gradually she moved toward that
side Of the house which adjcined So
phronia's She could see Sophronia
sitting at her little desk which was
close to the open window looking over
papers. and seemingly absorbed In the
business. Ordinarily Mrs. Graves would
have called to her. but now she kept
her face turned away.
AS she reached for another. and last
dandeIlon, a scrap of paper whirled
of Sophronia's desk. popped out of
the window and with astonishing aim
6sanded directly under Mrs. Graves
nda 1t was yellow paper and the