CHAPTER IX.

THE PROSPECT OF A CHANGE.

week before Jane and Ada returned to town, a letter came from Marion which filled Jane with dismay and showed Ada’s prognostications to be true. In this letter Marion announced her engagement to Mr. Tom Scott and the consequent breaking up of the household of “The Rowans.” Mr. Scott was returning to India in November and Marion was to accompany him. In the meanwhile she was with Mrs. Holden at Oban; in the course of a week or two she was to go to her own home until her marriage, which was to take place the last week in October.

“Dear Marion, how we shall miss her! Jennie, how will you and I get on without her?” said Ada.

“I don’t know,” said Jane tearfully. “I don’t want to be selfish, but I can’t imagine how we will manage. I suppose we shall have to live on aerated dainties or go to a boarding-house. Oh dear, oh dear! just as we were so happy,” and Jane’s usually cheerful face got very woe-begone and lugubrious.

Ada seemed to take the matter more calmly. She had been looking very handsome of late and seemed wonderfully contented with things in general. As she wrote to Marion when congratulating her on her approaching marriage, “it is delightful to be amongst one’s friends new and old.” She was very much sought after at the tennis parties and picnics which were so plentiful in the Foxholme neighbourhood at this season of the year, but she was rather difficult of approach and kept most of her admirers at a distance; at least, so the rector remarked to Jane on the day after a certain little outing.

“I wish that Mr. Redfern would keep his distance then,” returned Jane vindictively; at which the rector looked thoughtful.

One day Mrs. Oldham found poor Jane sobbing in the schoolroom, leaning her head disconsolately on a pile of Miss Edgeworth’s Moral Tales.

“My darling child, whatever is the matter?”

“Oh, Aunt Joan, I am so miserable, I don’t know what I shall do.”

By degrees Mrs. Oldham calmed her and induced her to tell her what was the matter.

“I was in the kitchen-garden just now,” said Jane, sobbing, “and Ada came along the other side of the wall, and Mr. Redfern was walking with her. She did not see me, neither did he, and I did not stay a minute; but I am quite sure from the way he was speaking that he had been asking her to marry him, and she—oh, I don’t believe she said she wouldn’t!”

Mrs. Oldham could hardly help laughing, but managed to refrain.

“But, my dear, why should she say she would not? Mr. Redfern is very nice and so are all his family. I have known them for some time. I always thought dear Ada just suited to become a clergyman’s wife. He has a nice little private income of his own, so there will be no need for a long engagement, which is always rather trying, I think. You, poor thing, of course, you feel the idea of losing both Ada and Marion Thomas, but we shall look after you. Uncle and I will arrange something nice. Don’t be afraid that we shall let you live in a boarding-house by yourself,” and she patted Jane’s hands and dried her eyes and kissed her.

In the course of a day or two her uncle called her into the study, an old wainscoted room that looked on to the kitchen-garden. He made her sit down in the rocking-chair while he discussed the plan that he and Mrs. Oldham had contrived.

“I have been wanting to have cooking taught in my schools for some time,” he began; “but there was a difficulty about getting a teacher. At last I have got four or five other villages to join with me, and by using the old brewhouse as a kitchen and making our village the centre, I think we shall manage very well. We shall be quite ready to begin at Christmas. You will live here. Of course, we shall be delighted to have you, whereas there would have been a difficulty about putting up a stranger. You will not earn quite as much as you earned in town, but on the other hand your expenses will be very much less, as you will have no boarding expenses to pay.”

Jane was overjoyed at this arrangement, and after thanking the kind rector warmly, flew to tell Ada, who was most thankful to hear of it, for Jane’s future had been weighing on her mind ever since her own engagement.

“Of course, you will always spend your holidays with us, darling,” she said, and in this she was warmly seconded by Mr. Redfern.

So Jane recovered her spirits, and lest the household should think her a “Niobe—all tears,” turned her interest with energy to the housekeeping, and at Mrs. Oldham’s request arranged the meals for a week, choosing all the dishes and helping to prepare several herself. Here is the list of dinners. She said she found it a most delightful change not to have to be very economical over the eggs.

Sunday.

Monday.

Tuesday.

Wednesday.

Thursday.

Friday.

Saturday.

Here are the recipes for some of the dishes. The jardinière soup and the braised mutton were one dish divided into two parts, and were cooked on the previous day. We give the recipe for both dishes in one.

Braised Leg of Mutton.—Take a large lettuce, two carrots, one turnip, two onions, two tomatoes, a blade of mace, two bay-leaves, a small piece of cinnamon, a teaspoonful of celery seed tied in muslin, a dessertspoonful of salt, and twelve peppercorns. Wash and slice the vegetables and arrange them in layers with the herbs and spices at the bottom of a large fish-kettle. Lay the leg of mutton on this bed of vegetables and pour two quarts of water over. Put on the lid and set the fish-kettle by the side of the stove for seven hours, turning the meat over when half done and basting it with the liquor from time to time. Do not let it boil. Remove the leg of mutton without sticking a fork in it, put it on a dish and let it get cold. Strain off the liquor in which the mutton was cooked into a basin, and when it cools skim off the fat. Shred a few slices of carrot, onion, and turnip and cook them separately. Re-heat the liquor and add them when it is hot. Serve the liquor and the freshly-cooked vegetables as jardinière soup, and the leg of mutton cold with a salad.

Hash with Piquante Sauce.—Slice an onion and put it in a small saucepan with two tablespoonfuls of vinegar and one of mushroom ketchup; put on the lid and simmer by the side of the stove until the onion is tender; pour in half a pint of stock and half a teaspoonful of salt; thicken with an ounce of brown thickening, add a teaspoonful of red currant jelly and one of chutney; put in a sufficient number of slices of cold meat and let them heat gently for an hour in the sauce. Serve very hot.

Cucumber Sauce for Boiled Chicken.—Pare and slice a large cucumber and remove the seeds; cook until tender in a pint of milk with a pinch of salt and four white peppercorns, and then rub through a hair sieve. Return to the saucepan, add a piece of butter rubbed in as much flour as it will take up, and stir until it boils.

Curd Cheesecakes.—Line some patty pans with good flaky pastry. Boil half a pint of milk with two ounces of castor sugar. Drain away the whey and beat the curd in a basin with three large eggs and an ounce of butter. Put some currants in each patty pan and a spoonful of the mixture on the top; bake twenty minutes in a good oven. The whey can be used to flavour custards.

Roast Bullock’s Heart.—Well wash the heart in warm water and salt. Cut away the pipes and trim away most of the fat; cut the thick wall that divides the middle of the heart. Put the heart in a saucepan of cold water, bring this slowly to the boil and throw the water away; this is to blanch it. Make a stuffing of half a pound of breadcrumbs, two tablespoonfuls of chopped parsley, a teaspoonful of chopped mint and marjoram, a small onion chopped, and two ounces of finely-chopped suet; bind this all together with beaten egg and a little good gravy; season well with pepper and salt, and stuff the heart with it. Lay it on a dripping-tin and put plenty of dripping on the top; lay a piece of greased paper over and roast in a rather slow oven for an hour and a half; heat the oven and cook for another half-hour to brown well. If cooked quickly all the while, the heart will be hard. When done put on a hot dish; pour off the dripping and pour half a pint of stock into the tin; add an ounce of brown thickening and a dessertspoonful of ketchup and boil up. Pour this gravy round the heart.

Chocolate Sauce for Pancakes.—Make some pancakes in the usual way, and before each one is rolled up, spread a spoonful of the following sauce on each:—

Put two ounces of chocolate on a tin in the oven to get soft, and then stir it into half a pint of warm milk. The chocolate used must be of the best quality; beat until smooth. Mix a tablespoonful of cornflour with a little cold milk; bring the chocolate and milk to the boil, stir in the cornflour and let the sauce thicken; add a very little brown colouring, and use.

Artichokes with Cheese Sauce.—Well wash some globe artichokes; cut off the coarse outer leaves and boil them for three hours until the leaves come out easily. It is best to float a plate over them to keep them under water. Drain and serve with the following sauce handed in a sauceboat:—

Cheese Sauce.—Boil half a pink of milk with an ounce of butter; mix an ounce of flour with a little cold milk and stir it in; stir in by degrees two ounces of grated cheese; stir and boil well.

Beans à la Flamande.—Shred some French beans and cook them in weak stock with the lid off the saucepan and a sprig of mint with them. When tender, drain off the stock. Put a small piece of fresh butter in the saucepan, with a dessertspoonful of chopped onion and one of chopped and blanched parsley. Toss the whole well together and serve very hot.

Rice Snow.—Boil a teacupful of rice very gently in a pint of milk until the rice has absorbed all the milk. Separate the whites and yolks of two eggs. Take the rice off the fire and beat in the two yolks; add two tablespoonfuls of castor sugar and a few drops of vanilla. Pour into a buttered pie dish; whip up the whites of the eggs with a little castor sugar and pile on the top of the pudding; put in a moderate oven for twenty minutes. Eat hot or cold.

When the Orlingburys got back to town, they found “The Rowans” a very changed place without Marion. She was not coming back there at all, so they had to make their daily plans as they best could without her. They found it simpler, now that there were only two of them, to give up the late dinner and have early dinner out in the middle of the day. This Jane could easily arrange at her cookery school. It was the easiest thing in the world to cook a chop, or, selecting a nice clean little girl who took a great interest in her lessons, to put her to make a diminutive pie or a steak pudding, and to cook a small quantity of vegetables. Ada took her dinner at a “Lyon’s” shop or some similar establishment near to the office. They both had a good high tea when they returned at about half-past six, and our old friend Abigail was by this time sufficiently experienced to prepare this for them. On Saturdays Jane generally cooked a piece of gammon of bacon, ham, or pickled pork to last for breakfasts for the week. Mrs. Oldham kept them well supplied with eggs.

For the high tea they had one dish only that needed cooking. Jane was always able and willing to bring any cakes or scones that were required back from the cookery school.

(To be concluded.)