The Professor’s wife laughingly remarked to Mary, “When I fry fritters or ‘Fast Nacht’ cakes, Fritz and Pauline usually assist such a large number of them in disappearing before I have finished baking, I am reminded of ‘Doughnutting Time,’ by J.W.  Foley.  Have you never read the poem?  I sometimes feel that it must have been written by me.”

[A]"DOUGHNUTTING TIME.”

    Wunst w’en our girl wuz makin’ pies an’ doughnuts—­’ist a Lot—­
    We stood around with great, big eyes, ’cuz we boys like ’em hot;
    And w’en she dropped ’em in the lard, they sizzled ’ist like fun,
    And w’en she takes ’em out, it’s hard to keep from takin’ one.

    And ’en she says:  “You boys’ll get all spattered up with grease.” 
    And by-um-by she says she’ll let us have ’ist one apiece;
    So I took one for me, and one for little James McBride,
    The widow’s only orfunt son, ‘ats waitin’ there outside.

    An’ Henry, he took one ‘ist for himself an’ Nellie Flynn,
    ‘At’s waitin’ at the kitchen door and dassent to come in,
    Becuz her Mother told her not; and Johnny, he took two,
    ’Cus Amey Brennan likes ’em hot, ’ist like we chinnern do.

    ’En Henry happened ’ist to think he didn’t get a one
    For little Ebenezer Brink, the carpet beater’s son,
    Who never gets ’em home, becuz he says, he ain’t quite sure,
    But thinks perhaps the reason wuz, his folkeses are too poor.

    An ’en I give my own away to little Willie Biggs
    ‘At fell down his stairs one day, an’ give him crooked legs,
    ‘Cuz Willie always seems to know w’en our girl’s goin’ to bake. 
    He wouldn’t ast for none.  Oh, no!  But, my! he’s fond of cake.

So I went back an’ ’en I got another one for me, Right out the kittle smokin’ hot, an’ brown as it could be; An’ John he got one, too, becuz he give his own to Clare, An’ w’en our girl she looked, there wuz ’ist two small doughnuts there.

    My! she wuz angry w’en she looked an’ saw ’ist them two there,
    An’ says she knew ‘at she had cooked a crock full an’ to spare;
    She says it’s awful ‘scouragin’ to bake and fret an’ fuss,
    An’ w’en she thinks she’s got ’em in the crock, they’re all in us.

[Footnote A:  The poem “Doughnutting Time,” from “Boys and Girls,” published by E.P.  Dutton, by permission of the author, James W. Foley.]

* * * * * * *

The Professor’s wife gave Mary what she called her most useful recipe.  She said, “Mary, this recipe was almost invaluable to me when I was a young housekeeper and the strictest economy was necessary.  Sift into a bowl, one cup of flour, one even teaspoonful of baking powder (I use other baking powders occasionally, but prefer ’Royal’), then cut through the flour either one tablespoonful of butter or lard, add a pinch of salt, and mix into a soft dough with about one-half cup of sweet milk.