"How was it?" asked Janet.
"There was no butter in the pudding, and no eggs, and no sugar," said Betsy Simmons.
"No sugar!" repeated Janet.
"Not a grain," said Mrs. Simmons. "A little sugar was eaten with the pudding after it was made, most commonly, though I don't care even for that. The pudding was made in a deepish dish, and it was nothing but milk and rice,—good Carolina rice. Mr. Mason liked it milky, and I used to put a good wine-glassful of rice into two quarts of milk, and that made a big enough pudding for his whole party. Same way it would have been half a wine-glassful to one quart of milk. But most people like it just a little more substantial, and maybe you'd come to putting an extra quantity of rice, according to taste. That's as may be."
"It don't sound nice," said Janet.
"I dare say it don't," said Mrs. Simmons. "Wait till you have tried. The secret of that pudding, and the secret of ever so much cooking beside, is SLOW DOING. We used to dine at half-past one, and by half-past nine I used to have my pudding ready,—the rice measured and put into the dish, and the milk poured in over. Then I used to put it into the oven and bake it slowly from three and a half to four hours. And of course it took some trouble and attention; for if the oven was too hot, the pudding got dried up and burnt; and if the oven was too cold, the pudding came out pale and sickly-looking and only half done; and if I moved it about too much in the oven, the milk would sometimes curdle. But I got into the way of it after a while, and I used to send up beautiful puddings, just nicely browned, with the milk thickened till it looked almost like cream, and the rice-grains quite tender, yet each one whole and separate from the rest."
"It sounds a deal of trouble," said Janet.
"It's worth the trouble," said Mrs. Simmons. "Cheap and wholesome food pretty nearly always gives trouble, but it's worth while. If you wanted to sit in an arm-chair, Mrs. Humphrey, with your hands before you, you had no business to marry a working man."
"O no,—I don't want that," said Janet. "I'll try to make the pudding as you say."
"You'd better. You won't be sorry after," said Mrs. Simmons. "And if you're inclined for a change, there's tapioca and sago can be made into puddings in pretty much the same way, only I'd put some sugar into them, and I'd use more of the tapioca or sago than of the rice. But you'll find there's nothing the children will take to like the plain rice pudding, if only you do it carefully and give it to them nice and hot."