CHAPTER XIII
COMPANY TO LUNCH
MARY FRANCES listened at the kitchen door before going in next morning. She wanted to find out what the Kitchen People might be doing.
"It isn't exactly eavesdropping," she thought, "although it seems awfully near to it."
"Can't you find it?" somebody was asking.
"Seems to be having trouble," said Tea Pot. "Of course, he can't very well find out—being so short and fat, and having no nose to speak of."
"Well, Nosey," answered Coffee Pot, "suppose you try—your nose is long enough to poke into anything!"
"So much the better for me this time, Pug Nose."
"Oh, say, stop calling names, and find out—if you can," cried Big Iron Pot.
"I'll bet it's my turn again!" interrupted Sauce Pan. "Now, see if I'm not right."
"He's peeped already," declared Coffee Pot.
"'Deed, I haven't," very earnestly.
"Oh, say, Tea Pot, if you're any good, get to work! See if he's right. Can you do it?"
"Yes," replied Tea Pot rather breathlessly. (It seemed to Mary Frances as if he were lifting a heavy weight.) "Yes, here is the place. Somebody else read; I'm too tired."
"I'll read," said Sauce Pan. "What was the last? Oh, yes, here it is, just as I said!"
"Oh, go 'way! Don't let him read," said Coffee Pot; "he'll make it up."
"Read yourself, then, Pug Nose!"
Then Coffee Pot's voice:
"I declare! He's right! It is his turn again. Listen!
No. 14.—White Sauce.
| 2 tablespoons butter |
| 2 tablespoons flour |
| 1 cup hot milk |
| ¼ teaspoon salt |
| dash of pepper |
1. Melt butter in a sauce pan.
2. Mix pepper and salt with flour.
3. Throw into the butter, stirring thoroughly. Cook until it bubbles a little.
4. Pour 1/3 of the milk very slowly on this, stirring and beating well.
5. Place over fire and stir in the rest of the milk a little at a time.
6. Let boil a minute.
"Pug Nose——"
"Stop calling names," said Iron Pot.
("Good!" thought Mary Frances.)
"Honorable Mr. Coffee Pot, Esquire," said Sauce Pan, mockingly. (Mary Frances could easily imagine him bowing.) "Allow me to call your attention to the un-im-peach-able ver-ac-i-ty of myself."
"Crazier and crazier!" commented Coffee Pot, sadly. "Did you say anything?"
"Sir," said Sauce Pan, "to put it into kindergarten words, I remarked, Sauce Pan, meaning myself, has rightly been likened to George Washington——"
"Aw—!" puffed Tea Kettle, "what I'm more interested in is the book. What do they use White Sauce for?"
"There's a foot-note," Tea Pot ventured.
"Read it!" commanded Tea Kettle.
"'White Sauce is very good to pour over cooked vegetables, like——'"
"Wait a minute," interrupted Tea Kettle, "perhaps Sauce Pan can tell us."
"New boiled potatoes, green cabbage, etc; also nice to use for warming over cooked meats, like cold chicken and canned salmon. Both make a nice luncheon dish."
("Fine!" thought Mary Frances. "There's a can of salmon in the pantry.")
"Is that right?" asked Tea Kettle.
"Right," said Tea Pot. "Next is
No. 15.—Baked Apples.
1. Wipe large apples.
2. Take out cores with apple corer or sharp knife.
3. Place in earthen or enamel dish.
4. Fill center of each apple with sugar.
5. Pour water into dish, allowing 2 tablespoons to each apple.
6. Bake in a hot oven one half hour, or until soft.
"A joyful surprise!" a deep voice seemed to come from the closet.
"Who's that?" asked Tea Kettle. "Oh, it's Baking Dish!—you startled me!"
"Although I'm not paid proper respect for my years——" went on the deep voice.
"How old are you, now, anyway?" asked Tea Kettle.
"I've been told I'm very old—
My grandsire was a Tory—
Often bought and often sold,
But that's another story."
"What an honor!" snickered Sauce Pan.
"How rude!" said Coffee Pot.
"No, child," came the deep voice of Baking Dish, "only modern—without reverence for the old and——"
"One—two—three—four—five—six—seven—eight—nine—ten—eleven!" struck in Mantel Clock, very loudly.
"Oh, my goodness!" exclaimed Mary Frances to herself, "it's time to commence lunch. I do thank Mantel Clock for reminding me.
"Let me see," said she, going into the kitchen as if she had just come downstairs, although she felt very guilty. "I must find to-day's lesson."
She read quietly for some time, pretending not to notice that she found the book open with the spout of Tea Pot lying against one of the pages.
"I can make White Sauce in a jiffy, and I'll heat some canned salmon in it," she exclaimed, picking up Sauce Pan quite carelessly. "He needs a lesson, and I don't need his help," she thought. "I'll treat him quite in-dif-fer-ent-ly."
"The salmon ought to have been opened an hour or two ago," said a sharp little voice.
Mary Frances looked around to see who her new helper could be, but could discover no one.
"How do you know?" she asked, more to find out who was speaking than to gain information.
"Who'd know better?" came the little voice, so sharp it was little more than a squeak. "I'm Can Opener!"
"Oh, so you are!" cried Mary Frances, spying him. "I'm glad to see you. Now, why open the salmon an hour ago?"
"All canned goods ought to be opened an hour or two before needed, and turned out," explained Can Opener, "to get well aired."
"Thank you," said Mary Frances, "I'll open the salmon right away—then see to the apples—then the White Sauce."
She had only just finished the White Sauce, when the door-bell rang. She stopped to take the Baked Apples out of the oven, before answering. It was Billy with Robert and Eleanor who lived down the street.
"Hello, Sister," said Billy, "I told you I'd bring company home to lunch some day. Anything ready?"
"By good luck, Billy, yes," said Mary Frances, kissing Eleanor, and taking her coat and hat, while Billy did the same for Robert.
"I know now why Mother likes Father to telephone when he's bringing home company to dinner," laughed Mary Frances.
"Oh, don't you worry, folks," said Billy, "everything'll be all right."
"That's the highest compliment a boy can pay, Mary Frances, you know," said Eleanor.
* * * * * * *
"I wish I could cook," she sighed, when Mary Frances dished the dessert of Baked Apples, and the three praised everything on the table.
"I wish you could, Sis," exclaimed Robert.
"Maybe some day I'll teach you some of the things I can make," said Mary Frances.
"Oh, Mary Frances, will you?" cried Eleanor.
"If your mother says so," nodded Mary Frances.
"I know she will," declared Eleanor. "She hates to cook, but she'll let me learn. She never goes into the kitchen if she can help it. And no wonder. Our kitchen is an awful place to go into, Maggie is so cross. She wouldn't let me try."
"Pity the poor Kitchen People," thought Mary Frances.
"Oh, we'll have fun!" she said aloud.
"When will you want me to come?" Eleanor asked.
"Some time, when I get near the end of my book, I'll let you know."
"Won't that be lovely! I'll bring my own bowl and spoon."
