MENU.
Potage aux Herbes.
Côtelettes de Mouton aux Légumes.
Sauce Anglaise.
Pommes de Terre au Naturel.
Haricots Verts.
Blancmange.
Pâté de Prunes.
Fromage.
Dessert.
Café.
"But why have you called the bread sauce Sauce Anglaise?" asked Mabel.
"I didn't know what to put. Sauce de pain doesn't sound quite right, somehow; and don't you remember some old Frenchman—was it Voltaire?—said the English were a nation of forty religions, and only one sauce? It's always supposed to be bread sauce, so I think Sauce Anglaise is a very good name for it."
The kettle by this time had boiled over, which necessitated a careful wiping of the fender and fire-irons. After the washing-up had been successfully accomplished, and the stove stoked, and the damper turned to heat the oven, the girls sallied forth with baskets to the kitchen-garden, to pick fruit and vegetables. Aldred, who was determined to concoct what she imagined to be a really French soup, made a selection of almost every herb she could find—sage, sweet marjoram, thyme, fennel, chervil, sorrel, and parsley, as well as lettuces, leeks, and a few artichokes.
"It shall be exactly like what Madame Pontier described to Aunt Bertha," she thought; "and I won't forget the soupçon of vinegar and olive oil, which she said was so indispensable. Miss Drummond will be quite amazed when she hears I've evolved it myself. I suppose some people have a natural talent for cooking, the same as they have for painting. Who first thought of all the recipes in the cookery books, I wonder? It's far more interesting to try something original than to make the same stew as we had last week with Miss Reade."
Mabel and Dora had hurried back with their baskets, and when Aldred, having secured her miscellaneous collection, followed them leisurely to the cottage, she found them already hard at work, disjointing chops, cutting up carrots and turnips, slicing beans, and peeling potatoes.
"We want to get the meat on in good time, and let it cook gently," announced Mabel; "then we can turn our attention to the sweets. Would you rather make the blancmange or the pastry?"
"I don't care much about either, if you and Dora want to make them," said Aldred. "I shall have quite enough with the soup and the bread sauce. I might look after the vegetables, if you like."
As the others agreed to this division of labour, Aldred retired to the scullery, and started operations. There was a small oil cooker here, which she thought she had better use, as there would not be room for everything on the kitchen stove. She chopped up all her various herbs, put them into a pan with some water, and then began to consider the question of seasonings.