I. An Early Call

“Good morning, children,” said Mrs. Duwell, with a bright smile—so bright that it seemed as if the oatmeal she was stirring smiled too.

“Good morning, mother,” said Ruth. “My, but we are early this morning; it is only seven o’clock.”

“Good morning, mother,” said Wallace, sleepily. “May I go back to bed again?”

“Yes—after supper to-night,” replied his mother. “But I am glad you are up, for I am expecting a caller to knock at the door any moment.”

“Who is it?” asked Ruth.

“Oh, he is a very important man,” said her mother. “The strange part of it is that he never rings the front door bell, but always comes to the kitchen door and knocks.”

“Please tell us who he is!” cried both the children.

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woman cooking while two children watch
Tell a story about this picture

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baker stading by gian loaf of bread with photographs in it
The next time a loaf of bread comes to your house, will you look into it and see if you can find pictures like the ones in the loaf on this page?
Here you will find pictures of harvesting, grain elevator, bakers at work, and baker wagon.

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“Yes,” went on Mrs. Duwell, “he is going to bring us the most useful and wonderful article sold in any store in this city.”

“Oh, mother, tell us what it is,” begged the children.

Just then there came a heavy knock at the kitchen door.

“There he comes with it now, I believe,” whispered Mrs. Duwell. “Wallace, you may open the door.”

Wallace ran quickly to the door and opened it, and there stood—the bread man.

“Oh, mother,” exclaimed Wallace, “it’s only the bread man!”

“Wallace,” said his mother, “speak more politely. Say ‘good morning,’ and take a loaf of bread and a dozen rolls.”

“Now, mother, tell us who it is you expect, and what he is going to bring,” coaxed Ruth as soon as the door was closed.

“Sit down and eat your breakfast, children, and I will tell you all about it.”

When the children had been served, she went on: “The man I spoke about has just gone—he is the bread man. Isn’t a loaf of bread the most useful and wonderful article sold in any store in the city?”

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“Why, mother, you are joking!” exclaimed Wallace.

“No, indeed, I am not. Tell me, children, what must you have in order to live?”

“Food,” replied Ruth.

“Correct; and what article of food do we most need?”

“Bread,” replied Ruth.

“I believe that is so,” said Wallace, after thinking a moment. “I am going to talk with father about it when he comes home to-night.”

“That is right; I think he will tell you something about wheat fields and bake ovens,” said Mrs. Duwell. “Now run along to school or you will be late.”
II. The Staff of Life

“Father,” said Wallace, as the family sat about the supper table that evening, “a very important man called at the door this morning before we went to school.”

“He did! Who was he?” asked Mr. Duwell.

“Guess who,” said Ruth. “He left us the most wonderful and useful article sold in any store in this city.”

“Who was he? What was it?” Mr. Duwell pretended to be very curious.

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“Guess! See if you can guess!”

“Let me see—oh, yes, it must have been the mayor with a pound of butter.”

“Guess again,” shouted the children.

“A policeman, with a bottle of ink.”

“No, guess again!”

“I give it up.”

“The bread man with that loaf of bread,” cried the children, pointing to the loaf on the table.

“Well, well, I believe you are right, children,” said their father. “I certainly ought to have guessed, although I never thought of the bread man as a very important man before.”

“Mother explained it to us this morning and said that you would tell us about the wheat fields and bake ovens,” spoke up Ruth.

“I certainly will, children,” said their father, looking pleased. “Let me see; what is this made of?” he asked, picking up a piece of bread.

“Flour.”

“Yes, what kind?”

“Wheat flour.”

“Correct; so this is wheat bread. What other kinds of bread are there?”

“Rye bread, bran bread, graham bread.”

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“Yes; and in Europe bread is often made of oats and barley.”

“Bread is sometimes called by another name,” said their mother; “did you ever hear of it? The staff——”

“The staff of life,” finished the children.

“I have an idea,” cried their father suddenly. “The Spotless Bakery is about three squares up the street. It is open in the evening. I know the manager. Let us go up there to see how they make bread.”

“Hurrah for dad! Fine, come on!” cried Wallace.

“I wish mother could go,” Ruth said.

Her mother shook her head; “No, dear, I’ll not go this time, but thank you for thinking of it.”

“We won’t be long, mother, and we’ll tell you about everything when we get home,” said Wallace, as the three left the house.
III. A Visit to the Bakery

Soon they came to a big square building that seemed to be all windows, blazing with light. Over the door was a sign which read:
THE SPOTLESS BAKERY

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The children had often seen the building before but had never been inside.

They entered and their father asked to see the manager. Soon he came bustling in—a round smiling little man, dressed in a spotless white suit.

“Good evening, Mr. Duwell,” he said, shaking hands.

“Good evening, Mr. Baker,” replied Mr. Duwell. “This is Ruth, and this is Wallace. They want to see how bread is baked, if you are not too busy for visitors.”

“I shall be delighted to show you,” said Mr. Baker, smiling and shaking hands with both children; “this way, please.”

Up a narrow winding stair they climbed to the sifting room on the fourth floor.

“Every bit of flour starts on its journey through these sifters,” said the manager, pointing to a row of box-like sifting machines.

On the floor stood a huge pile of bags of flour. “Each one of these bags holds one hundred and forty pounds,” he explained.

Passing down the stairway they saw the store-room piled high with more bags of flour. “There are more than a thousand of them,” said the manager.

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Then they came to the mixing room. Everything was white—the huge mixers were white; the walls were white; the bakers were dressed in white with odd round white caps; the dough trays were white—everything was white and spotless.

“The flour from the sifters above comes through an opening in the floor into the mixers. Then the yeast and other things are added. The electric power is started. The great iron arms of the mixers turn, and twist, and mix until the whole mass becomes dough,” Mr. Baker explained.

Along the wall were the dough trays in which the dough is set to rise. These trays remind one of huge white bath tubs on wheels, a little wider and deeper and about twice as long as the ones in ou............