A Fourth Form Friendship Part 6

"There! That ought to be worthy of a _cordon bleu_," she said to herself. "Now I must let it simmer away, and it will be delicious."

She set her pan on the oil cooker, and ran out to the garden, to pick some flowers for the table. This was a part of the day's work that appealed to her more than the cookery, so she lingered for some time making an artistic combination of poppies, gra.s.ses, and sweet scabious.

When she arrived back at the cottage, she was greeted by both Mabel and Dora with rueful faces.

"Your lamp has been flaring up in the scullery, and has made such a mess!" began Dora. "It's sent black s.m.u.ts over everything! They came right through into the kitchen, and fell into the blancmange. I had hard work to fish them out."

"And the scullery looks as if it wants spring cleaning," added Mabel.

"I'm afraid we shall have to put clean paper on the shelves."

Aldred rushed to ascertain the fate of her pan. Mabel had taken it off and turned the lamp out, but there was still a very nasty, oily smell in the air. Dora, who was the most practical of the three, examined the cooker and re-trimmed the wick.

"You won't have to turn it too high," she said. "These lamps always smoke very easily. We used to use a paraffin heater in our greenhouse at home, and it wasn't at all satisfactory. I should leave it only half on, like this, if I were you."

"It won't cook very fast!" objected Aldred.

"Well, you don't want soup to boil, only to simmer. We must have the back door open, to get rid of this smell. It's perfectly sickening! I'll help you to clean up, while Mabel finishes the pastry."

The catastrophe with the lamp was most annoying. The s.m.u.ts had settled so persistently that nearly everything had to be taken down and wiped, or dusted.

"Miss Drummond may very likely peep into the scullery," said Dora. "It would never do for her to find it covered with blacks; she'd think we were dreadfully bad housekeepers. All the things in the cottage are so beautifully new and clean, it's a shame to have a speck anywhere. Isn't it time to put on the beans and the potatoes?"

The morning had certainly crept along very fast, and if the dinner was to be punctual to the moment, it was not any too soon to think of the vegetables. As Aldred had undertaken these for her province, she rushed into the kitchen and began to see about them at once, in such a flurry that she quite forgot the instructions she had received at the cookery cla.s.s. Fortunately, the other girls were looking on, and brought her to book.

"You mustn't put the beans into cold water," shrieked Dora; "I've the kettle boiling on purpose. And where's the pinch of carbonate of soda, to keep the colour?"

"And the potatoes need salt," interposed Mabel. "They're old now, and quite floury. You shouldn't do them with a sprig of mint; that was for new ones."

"Finish the vegetables yourselves, then!" retorted Aldred, a little out of temper. "I haven't made the bread sauce yet."

"Don't mind about it!"

"Yes, I shall; it's down on the menu."

"That doesn't matter."

"It matters very much. I shall have quite time, if you two will lay the table. Only, don't disturb my arrangement of the flowers, because I've put them just right; and be sure you tilt the menu card exactly opposite Miss Drummond's place."

CHAPTER IV

Domestic Economy

At exactly two minutes to one o'clock Miss Drummond and Mademoiselle arrived at the cottage, and were ushered by three rather nervous and anxious housewives into the sitting-room, where the table, at any rate, looked inviting, with its nice clean cloth and elaborately-folded serviettes. The girls had arranged among themselves that Aldred was to bring in and remove the soup and the cheese, Mabel the meat course and the dessert, and Dora the sweets and the coffee. While the others, therefore, were taking their seats, Aldred, with a good many misgivings, poured her _potage_ into the little tureen which formed part of the dinner service. She had never tasted French vegetable soup, and doubted whether her compound bore the slightest resemblance to the wonderful _bouillon maigre_ of which Madame Pontier had boasted; it seemed of such a particularly weak and washy consistency, the herbs were not half-cooked, and the salad oil was floating on the top, and refused to mix up properly, though she stirred it vigorously with a spoon.

"I'm afraid it hasn't boiled enough on this wretched paraffin cooker,"

she thought. "Well, it will have to do now; I can't keep them waiting.

I'm glad Dora remembered the toast."

"A six-course dinner!" exclaimed Miss Drummond, picking up the menu with great approval. "This is more than Mademoiselle and I had dreamed of! We certainly never expected to find soup--it is quite a surprise! Where did you get the stock?"

"There wasn't any stock; it's made from vegetables," replied Aldred. "I heard a French lady tell my aunt how to do it, so I thought I'd try."

"_Potage aux herbes!_" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mademoiselle, looking at the tureen with an interest half-gastronomical, half-sentimental; "ah, but that bring to me other days! I have not tasted _bouillon maigre_ since I live with my _grand'mere_ at Avignon."

"You must imagine you are back in Provence, then, Mademoiselle," said Miss Drummond, as she helped to hand the plates.

"It was a sweet thought to make it--_une idee tout a fait gentille_! The scenes of one's youth, ah, what it is to recall them to the memory! _Ma foi!_ but I am again in the old white _chateau_: the green shutters are closed to keep out the warm sun; Jules, the _concierge_, carries in the dishes, treading softly on the polished floor; outside is the cooing of doves, and the tinkling of goat bells. _Grand'mere_, so stately, so erect, so gay in spite of her years, she sit at the table's head, and serve to all the portion. It is to me as if I were there!"

Steeped in these reminiscences of her childhood, Mademoiselle, with pleased antic.i.p.ation, raised her spoon to her lips. Then, alas! alas!

she spluttered, made a horrible grimace, and buried her face in her serviette.

"_Ah! mais c'est degoutant!_" she murmured faintly.

Aldred hurriedly tasted her own plateful. Mademoiselle had not exaggerated matters; a more unpleasant brew could not be imagined. The various vegetables and herbs were still half-raw, and had not imparted their flavour, so the soup seemed mainly a mixture of spices and salad oil, and had, besides, a suggestion of paraffin, owing no doubt to the flaring-up of the lamp.

Poor Aldred blushed hotly. She was covered with confusion at such a dead failure. The others had all politely sampled the soup, and then laid down their spoons; it was quite impossible for anybody to take it.

"Never mind, my dear!" said Miss Drummond kindly. "You tried to give us a surprise, and we are as sorry as you that it should have turned out so unfortunately. Even the best cook has to profit by experience, and the value of this little cottage is that it gives you the opportunity of learning from practice. You will be wiser another time. Perhaps your aunt's French friend will send you a written recipe, with exact quant.i.ties and instructions. It needs a very old housekeeper to make a dish from hearsay. Suppose you take out the tureen, and we will go on with the next course."

Mabel's and Dora's stew, made exactly as Miss Reade had shown them in the cookery cla.s.s, was quite satisfactory. They had put in the right seasonings, and had remembered to brown and thicken the gravy. The potatoes and beans were also up to standard, which cheered Aldred a little. She was partly responsible for them, and had helped to prepare them, though it was Dora who had shaken the potato pan, and put the dab of b.u.t.ter among the beans. Miss Drummond looked mildly surprised at the addition of bread sauce, but she helped herself without comment, feeling pledged to taste all her pupils' efforts. Aldred had been obliged to draw upon her inventive powers for this also, as she had no recipe, and the result, though not so disagreeable as the soup, was far from palatable. She had made it exactly like bread and milk, without onion, b.u.t.ter, or cloves; and had even added a little sugar to it. She wished sincerely that she had not included it in the menu, or, at any rate, that she had not allowed it to be brought to table. She looked so conscious and distressed that Miss Drummond readily divined who was the author of the attempt, and charitably forbore to remark upon it, though she left her portion unfinished on her plate.

The rest of the dinner was really very creditable. Dora's blancmange was smooth, and Mabel's pastry light. Aldred had arranged the cheese and biscuits daintily on paper d'oyleys; and the coffee, a combined effort of the trio, was a great improvement upon that of the morning.

The three girls heaved a vast sigh of relief when Miss Drummond, after a tour of inspection into the kitchen and scullery, departed, expressing satisfaction both with the dinner and with the general neatness and order of the establishment. Mademoiselle had excused herself the moment coffee was finished. She had been very silent after the episode of the soup, perhaps her thoughts were in Provence, or perhaps she considered it a hardship that her duties should include being obliged to endure such amateur cookery.

"Hurrah! The worst part of the day is over," said Mabel. "I felt I couldn't breathe freely until dinner was done with, and Miss Drummond out of the house!"

"I'm quite exhausted with all our efforts," declared Dora, sinking into a basket-chair and tucking a cushion behind her head.

"Your efforts were successful," said Aldred ruefully. "I don't think Mademoiselle will ever forget my wretched _bouillon maigre_. I'm afraid she won't accept an invitation to dine at the cottage again."

"Well, she won't have us for cooks in any case, for we shan't get another day here now until next term. I wish our turns could come oftener!"

"Yes, we could do with a whole row of cottages."

"I'm afraid Miss Drummond won't build them."

"No, I suppose they cost too much."

The girls felt they had earned a rest after their labours, so they sat chatting for a while in the sitting-room before they began to clear away the remains of the feast.

"The others are looking forward tremendously to coming to tea," said Mabel. "It was nice of Miss Drummond to let us ask the whole Form."

"Well, we were allowed three visitors, and it would have been so hard to choose which. The two who were left out would have been so offended; and it really would have been hard on them, when they thought of the fun the rest were having."

"Look here!" cried Dora, starting up, "do you know it's a quarter-past two? If we're expecting five girls to tea at half-past four, we shall have to bestir ourselves and make some cakes."