Ollie and Ava turned to look at Betty.
Betty frowned.
McTavish blinked.
Ma Peachey looked nervous.
The following morning was Saturday.
When Ma Peachey woke up, Pa Peachey was already hard at work in the kitchen.
Ma Peachey pulled on her clothes and started down the stairs. Before she reached the bottom, she heard a terrible noise.
BANG!
In the kitchen, she found Pa Peachey. At least she thought it was Pa Peachey. The person she thought was Pa Peachey was completely covered in flour. The floor was covered in flour. The counters were covered in flour. McTavish was covered in flour.
“Hello,” said Ma Peachey.
“Hello,” Pa Peachey said. “I’m afraid there has been an accident.”
“I can see that,” Ma Peachey said.
“The flour . . .” Pa Peachey said.
“Yes?” Ma Peachey said.
“Exploded.”
Ma Peachey frowned. “Are you sure you didn’t drop it? I have never heard of flour exploding before.”
Pa Peachey shrugged. “There is always a first time. I have discovered that baking is a very dangerous pursuit. I might have been killed.”
Ma Peachey did not ask how Pa Peachey might have been killed.
“And by the way, making bread is far more difficult than it looks,” Pa Peachey told her.
“I can see that,” said Ma Peachey.
“And far messier,” Pa Peachey said.
“I can see that, too,” Ma Peachey said. She went to the cupboard, took out a dustpan and brush, a bucket, a sponge, and an apron, and handed them to Pa Peachey.
“I have been thinking,” Pa Peachey said, taking the bucket and putting on the apron. “Baking is a difficult and hazardous occupation. Betty is far too young to handle perilous tools such as knives and fire.”
“And bags of flour?” Ma Peachey asked.
“Precisely,” said Pa Peachey.
“But who will take over the bread baking?” Ma Peachey asked.
“I will,” said Pa Peachey.
“I hope you will not find it too dangerous,” Ma Peachey said.
“I have learned a few lessons from my first attempt,” said Pa Peachey.
“Excellent,” said Ma Peachey.
“Once I have cleaned up,” Pa Peachey said, brushing the flour out of his eyes, “I will go to the store for more flour.”
“Make sure to get the nonexploding type,” Ma Peachey said.
“Ha, ha,” said Pa Peachey.
McTavish followed Ma Peachey out of the kitchen, leaving a trail of white pawprints.
At noon that same day, Pa Peachey was still baking bread. He was still baking bread at two o’clock. And at three and at four and at six.
At seven o’clock that evening, Pa Peachey was still hard at work in the kitchen. No one dared disturb him to inquire about dinner.
At seven thirty, there was still no sign of dinner.
Ollie crept into the kitchen for some cheese and crackers, hoping Pa Peachey would not notice him.
But Pa Peachey did notice him.
“GET OUT! GET OUT! GET OUT!” Pa Peachey shouted.
Ma Peachey looked thoughtful. “I wonder if I should have a word with the chef,” she said.
“Don’t go near the kitchen if you value your life,” Ollie said. “From now on, it is off-limits. Apparently.”
“Pa Peachey is making bread,” Betty said nervously.
“I know,” said Ma Peachey, frowning. “A most interesting turn of events.”
“You say interesting; I say disturbing,” Betty said.
“You say disturbing; I say disastrous,” Ollie said.
Ava said nothing, as she was just coming to a good part in A History of Western Philosophy by Bertrand Russell and wanted to know what happened next.
At approximately eight o’clock that evening, the aroma of baking bread emerged from the kitchen, making the poor hungry Peacheys feel even hungrier.
At approximately eight twenty-two, Pa Peachey stuck his head out of the kitchen and called the family in. “Ta-da!” he said, indicating his first-ever completed loaf of bread with a flourish. “I think you will find that this is the finest and most delicious loaf of bread ever made.”
“It certainly looks good,” Betty said.
Pa Peachey produced a large bread knife and attempted to cut a slice off the hot loaf. He sawed and he sawed, but the loaf of bread was too hard.
“This knife is woefully dull,” Pa Peachey said with a frown.
Ollie disappeared into the garage and returned with a hacksaw. “This might work,” he said.
HACK, HACK, HACK went Ollie’s hacksaw. Then once more, HACK, HACK, HACK. After many minutes and much hard work, Ollie had managed to cut a slice of Pa Peachey’s bread for each of them.
Pa Peachey’s bread was hot. It looked good. It smelled good. But it was very chewy. You might even say it was as chewy as a shoe. Pa Peachey’s bread was so chewy, in fact, that it was almost more like punishment than bread.
The Peachey family chewed and chewed. They chewed and chewed and chewed some more.
Time passed.
Betty sneaked half of her bread to McTavish, who took it to the corner, where he lay growling and tearing at it with his powerful teeth. But even McTavish could not chew Pa Peachey’s bread. In the end, he managed to bite off a small piece and left the rest on the floor.
Maybe some rats will find it and take it away, McTavish thought.
When at last everyone had finished chewing, nobody asked for another slice. For one thing, their jaws were too tired to speak.
Ollie managed to mumble something through exhausted lips. “Is there anything else for dinner?”
Everyone looked at Pa Peachey, who only smiled happily.
“I think I have found my calling,” he said. “Baking is both stimulating to the mind and relaxing to the spirit. From now on, you children can make the meals, but I will do all the baking.”
At this, McTavish pricked up his ears.
It is worth remembering that dogs have very sensitive ears. They can hear sounds from four times the distance and at far higher frequencies than humans can.
Just now, McTavish could hear a kind of alarm bell ringing. Of course it is possible that he just imagined he could hear an alarm bell ringing, but it didn’t really matter.
The idea of Pa Peachey as head baker sounded very alarming to McTavish.
Pa Peachey did not make bread during the week.
