The baker awoke at three o'clock, and soon afterward came downstairs
yawning and rubbing his eyes in his accustomed manner. For it is a
real hardship to arise in the middle of the night and go to work, and
Monsieur Jules sometimes regretted he was such a skillful baker; for
any other profession would have allowed him to sleep until daylight.
But the bread and rolls and gingerbread must be fresh and warm by
breakfast time, or the people would be sadly disappointed; and the only
possible way to get them ready was to start the work at three o'clock.
First, he lighted the big swinging lamps, which made the room bright as
day, and then he built the fires in the great furnaces. Presently these
last were roaring in a very business-like manner, and as soon as he
heard the roar Monsieur Jules began to whistle. It was his custom, and
kept him from getting lonesome while he worked.
[Illustration]
Next he kneaded the bread, formed it into loaves, and placed them in
long rows upon the slabs--ready for the oven. The rolls were then mixed
and kneaded, and it took a longer time to get them ready than it had
the bread, for they were small and quite daintily shaped. But at last
the important task was completed, and while they were rising and the
ovens heating, Monsieur mixed his gingerbread and cakes.
Somehow, the work progressed very swiftly this morning, and after a
time the baker found he had a good hour to spare before the ovens would
be ready.
Then a sudden idea struck him.
"Why, to-day is the Fourth of July," he thought, "and that is a
National Holiday. I think I will make a fine gingerbread man, such
as I used to make in Paris, and put it in the shop window to attract
attention. These Americans like enterprise, and they have never seen a
gingerbread man, for I have not made one since I came to this country."
With Monsieur Jules, to think was to act, and scarcely had he spoken
these words when he began to gather his material together for a great
batch of gingerbread dough. For he resolved that the man he was about
to make should be big enough and fine enough to arouse the wonder of
all beholders.
He began by filling a great bowl with flour, and then rubbed into the
flour some butter and lard. "That will make it short," said Monsieur,
"although it is to be a tall man." Then he added some molasses.
"He will be a sweet fellow," thought the baker, smiling at his own
pleasantries. Then he shook in the ginger and several fragrant spices,
and began mixing the dough into one great mass.
"It is too stiff," reflected the baker, a few moments later. "My man
must not be stiff, for that would render him disagreeable." He laughed
at the whimsical thought, and glancing around, saw the brown bowl that
Madame had left sitting upon a corner of the table. It was nearly full
of the precious liquid, and Monsieur Jules, with his mind intent upon
his work, never stopped to wonder how it came there. Perhaps he thought
he had himself unconsciously filled the bowl with water. Anyway, he
dumped all of the Essence of Vitality--the Great Elixir which could
never be duplicated in all the world--into the mass of dough he was
preparing for his gingerbread man!
Monsieur merely noticed that the dough had now become the proper
consistency, and mixed easily.
Whistling merrily, he presently spread the huge batch of dough upon the
big table and began rolling it and working it into the shape he desired.
[Illustration: THEN A SUDDEN IDEA STRUCK HIM.]
[Illustration]
Ah, but Monsieur Jules Grogrande was a true artist, although a baker!
Under his skillful hands the gingerbread man slowly but surely took
form; and the form was fully as large as that of a well-grown
fourteen-year-old boy. But it was by no means a boy that Monsieur
was forming with such care; it was, rather, the figure of a typical
French gentleman, such as may seldom be met with elsewhere than on
the boulevards of Paris. It was interesting to watch the figure grow:
interesting, of course, to Monsieur Jules, as there was no one else in
the bake-room to see.
The man appeared to be dressed in excellent fashion. Monsieur made
him a collar and shirt-front of white bread dough, which looked very
beautiful in contrast to the brown gingerbread-dough of his clothes.
Then with a lump of dough, carefully kneaded, he formed the man's
necktie, making a very artistic bow indeed. A waistcoat of fashionable
cut was next added. The buttons on the man's coat were white lozenges,
and to represent shoes the baker mixed his dough with licorice, until
the shoes seemed as black and shiny as if freshly polished.
You would have loved to see, could you have been present, the delicate
skill with which the clever baker carved the hands and fingers of his
man, using a small but sharp knife, and patting and rounding each dough
finger into proper shape. He even clipped from a sheet of transparent
celluloid the fingernails, and pressed them carefully into the dough at
the ends of the fingers. Who but Monsieur would ever have thought of
such a thing?
But, after all, it was upon the face that the baker exercised his best
skill. As a sculptor forms his models out of clay, so Monsieur pressed
and squeezed and molded his pliant dough, until every feature of
the gingerbread man became wonderfully lifelike. Of course the face
was made of the white dough, with just a trifle of the pink coloring
mixed into it to make it resemble real flesh. But the wavy hair that
surrounded the face was of gingerbread-dough, as its brown color, after
it had been baked, would be quite natural and lifelike.
[Illustration]
Among the things brought from Paris by the Grograndes was a pair of
excellent glass eyes, and Monsieur Jules rummaged in a drawer until
he found them, and then pressed them into the dough face. And now it
positively seemed that the gingerbread man was looking at you, and the
eyes lent its face a gentle and kindly expression.
"There's something lacking, however," murmured the baker, looking at
his work critically. "Ah, I know--it's the teeth!"
Teeth for a gingerbread man! But nothing was easier to represent, once
their absence was noted. Between the lips of the man our baker pressed
two rows of small white candies, and it was wonderful to remark the
pleasant smile that now lent its charm to the face.
With a sigh of satisfaction in the result of his work, the baker at
last declared his gingerbread man ready for the oven.
"And it is my masterpiece!" cried Monsieur Jules, proudly. "Never, even
in Paris, have I seen so perfect a man of dough. He is well worthy to
have a name, and I will call him John Dough, which will be appropriate,
indeed!"
But the great ovens were now glowing brightly, so Monsieur filled
them with bread and rolls, and watched them carefully until the big
and little loaves were all done to a turn. The cakes and cookies came
next, and by the time that dawn arrived the front shop was stocked
with heaps of the warm, fresh-smelling loaves and rolls, and trays of
delicious cakes and buns, hot from the ovens.
Then the baker came back to his gingerbread man, which he first placed
gently upon a great iron slab, and then slid it all into the open door
of a perfectly heated oven.
With great anxiety Monsieur watched the oven. The dough was properly
mixed, the workmanship was most excellent. Would the baking turn out
to be as perfect as the rest? Much good dough may be spoiled in the
baking. None knew that better than Jules Grogrande.
So he tended the oven with nervous care, and finally, at exactly the
right moment, the baker threw open the oven door and drew out the sheet
of iron upon which the great and grand gingerbread man rested.
He was baked to perfection!
Filled with pride and satisfaction, Monsieur bent admiringly over his
great creation; and as he did so, the gingerbread man moved, bent
his back, sat up, and looked about him with his glass eyes, while a
wondering expression crept over his face.
"Dear me!" said he, "isn't it very warm and close in this room?"
[Illustration]
The Great Elixir had accomplished its purpose. The wonderful Essence
of Vitality, prized for centuries and closely guarded, had lent its
marvelous powers of energy, strength, and life to a gingerbread man!
And all through the stupidity of a baker's wife who was color-blind and
could not distinguish a golden flask from a silver one!
Monsieur Jules, who knew nothing of the Arab's flasks, or of the Great
Elixir, glared wildly into the glass eyes of the gingerbread man. He
was at first sure that his own eyes, and also his ears, had played him
a trick.
"John Dough--John Dough!" he cried, "did you speak? Merciful heavens!
Did you speak, John Dough?"
"I did," said the gingerbread man, struggling to rise from the slab,
"and I declare that it _is_ warm and close in this room!"
Monsieur Jules gave a scream of terror. Then he turned and fled.
A moment later he staggered into the shop, tossed his hands above his
head, and fell in a heap upon the floor--being overcome by a fainting
spell.
Madame, who had just come downstairs and opened the shop, gazed upon
her husband's terrified actions with an amazement that prevented her
from moving a limb or uttering a sound.
What in the world could have happened to Jules?
Then she received the greatest shock of her life.
[Illustration: MONSIEUR JULES TURNED AND FLED.]
From out the door of the bake-room came a gingerbread man, so fresh
from the oven that the odor of hot gingerbread surrounded him like a
cloud. He looked neither to right nor left, but picked Monsieur's tall
silk hat from off a peg and placed it carelessly upon his own head.
Next he caught up a large candy cane from a show-case, stepped over
the prostrate body of the baker, and so left the shop, closing the
front door behind him.
Madame saw him passing the windows, stepping along briskly and swinging
the cane in his left hand.
[Illustration]
Then the good lady imitated her husband's example. She gave a shrill
scream, threw up her hands, and tumbled over unconscious.