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Mrs. Hubbard's Three Warnings


It was in the days of our grandmothers, when there were brick ovens in the land, that Mr. Hubbard bought his house; and bought it very much against his wife’s will. It was a lonely house, and reported to be haunted. It was next to a graveyard, which though unused was not cheerful, and which had likewise the reputation of a ghost. However, Mr. Hubbard did not believe in ghosts, and was too cheerful to be depressed by warnings, and never intended to be lonely.  

“Mrs. Hubbard,” he said, when his wife shook her head over the purchase, “I got it cheap, and it is a good one. You will like it when you get there. If you don’t, why then talk.”

So the house was bought, and into it the Hubbard family went. There was scarcely a chance for a ghost to show his face amid such a family of boys and girls. Mr. And Mrs. Hubbard counted ten of them, all noisy ones.  

Having once expostulated and spoken out her mind as to the house, Mrs. Hubbard gave up the point. She scrubbed and scoured, tacked down carpets and put up curtains, and owned that the place was pretty. As not a ghost appeared for a week, she made up her mind that there were no such inhabitants; she even began not to mind the tombstones. So the house got to rights at last, and baking day came about. In the press of business, they had a great deal of baker’s bread, and were now tired of it. 

Mrs. Hubbard never enjoyed setting a batch of bread to rise as she did that which was to be eaten for the first time in the new house.  

“For I cannot get up an appetite for stuff that nobody knows who has had the making of,” said Mrs. Hubbard, “and all puffy and alumy besides.” 

So into the oven went the bread, and out it came at the proper time, even and brown and beautiful as loaves could be. Mrs.… Read More