"I rather thought that would surprise you, but one of my pet economies is in making preserves and jellies all winter. See, here are six glasses of apple jelly I made up the day you lunched down-town. I found some cheap apples in market that morning and bought them, and then I cut them up without peeling them, stewed them in water enough to cover them, hung them up in a bag to drain, and when the juice was all out I boiled it fifteen minutes and put in the sugar and boiled it five more. Then I dropped in half a lemon for a moment to flavor it, and put it in glasses. It was firm in a short time. That explains my way of doing. I buy anything I find that is cheap and put up a glass of it one day and another glass of something else the next day, and so keep this shelf full all the time and save my summer fruit. Some of the jelly is spiced, too, for variety. I dropped a bag of whole cloves and cinnamon in while it cooked, and gave a distinctly new flavor to it. That goes well with meats; it's no trouble at all to make up a few glasses either way."
"'No trouble,' is your daily phrase; you say it over and over, and I never cease to be astonished at it. Everything seems a trouble to me, and I am sure jelly-making the year round would be a dreadful trouble."
"Not at all, if you took it as a matter of course and made nothing of it. I cook up my fruit in the morning while I am doing up my dishes, and then put it in a bag and hang it up and go away and forget it. After luncheon I find the juice is all out, because I have only a small amount of fruit, you see. I let that boil while I do the luncheon dishes, and put in the sugar, and it is done; I pour it into glasses and set it away to harden for one day, or for two if necessary, and then I just pour melted paraffin on top of it and put it in the closet. That is really no trouble, is it?" Mrs. Thorne asked, placidly.
"Well, we won't discuss it now. Tell me instead whether you do up anything besides apples in winter?"
"Yes, indeed, lots of things. For one, when early in the season I find a basket of winter pears, I get those and make up pear conserve. I peel and chop them, cook them with sugar, lemon, and ginger-root; four pounds of pear, a pound and a half of sugar, an eighth of a pound of cooked and finely chopped ginger-root, and a chopped lemon. Boil it down thick, and you will find it extremely good, especially with cream cheese, or in sandwiches for afternoon tea. If pears were expensive in the fall and I did not pickle any, I usually do some now.
"Later on, carts full of small sour oranges come through the streets, and then I make orange marmalade; that helps out a breakfast nicely. And when, later still, the carts have the queer little whole figs covered with sugar, I preserve them. They are the best thing in ice-cream you ever ate, and also good just as preserves; and I make sweet pickles of them if I had no peach pickles in the fall."
"How do you make those?"
"Just by the one rule you always use: a quart of cider vinegar boiled down with three pounds of sugar and a handful of whole spices; that is a pretty large rule for just a few pickles, however, and you had better divide it."
"And what comes next?"
"Cranberry conserve, I think. You chop a quart of the berries, mix them with the pulp of two oranges and the grated peel, a cup of raisins, and two cups of sugar, and boil it all down till it is thick. That is a really choice thing to have with chicken or a good company roast. Then, too, I make a little mint jelly to go with lamb, also for company. I divide the apple jelly when I make that, and in part I put a bunch of bruised mint, or if I cannot get that in winter at the butcher's, I use dried mint. When it is done I strain it well and add a little green vegetable coloring, and it makes a lovely jelly. You know you can also make that with a basis of lemon jelly and use gelatine to set it with, if you want it at once."