She found Norah had plenty of junket tablets, so first of all she followed the rule for that. It was very easy indeed, and in just a moment she poured half the junket into a little glass for her mother, and the other half into an egg cup-mold for Jack's lunch. She put both of these right on ice so they would be firm, and used half the tablet instead of a quarter as her rule suggested, to be perfectly certain the junket would be firm enough by noon.
"You must be sure not to let them stand one minute, Miss Mildred," said Norah as she watched her. "If you do, they'll never set at all."
"Why not, Norah? Couldn't I just set the dish on the table for two minutes before I put it away?"
Norah assured her that it was quite impossible. "Junket isn't like gelatine; it won't wait," she said. So Mildred hurried just as fast as she could.
Next she made the soup; she found a cup of spinach in the refrigerator, and used that exactly as the receipt said, and the soup was a lovely pale green color. She put this where it would keep hot, and then boiled the water to poach the egg.
Before this bubbled Miss Betty came in with a pink geranium in her hand, and two green leaves. These she put in a very slender clear glass vase she found in the sitting-room, just large enough for them. Then she began to help Mildred with the tray.
"First you cover it with a clean napkin or tray cloth; that's a nice napkin, Norah, thank you. Then you put on a glass of cold water, only half full so it will not spill. Then the plate for the soup cup; and the soup spoon at the side, with the fork for the egg, and the little folded napkin and a cunning little salt and pepper. Next you get the egg and toast ready, put them on a hot plate—hot, Mildred, not just a little warm,—and cover it up with a hot cereal dish turned over it, unless you happen to have a covered china dish that comes on purpose. Stand this at the back of the tray. Get the little junket ready, too, and put the glass on a small plate; but you need not put this on the tray. Let your mother eat the hot things first, and take off the dishes and put the dessert on the tray all by itself. You can get it while she is eating, you know. Then, last of all, you put on the vase of flowers. There—doesn't that look sweet?"
Mildred said it certainly did; then she began to poach the egg, and Miss Betty went into Mother Blair's room and put an extra pillow behind her shoulders and a scarf over her and opened the blinds. She drew a little table close beside the bed and laid a fresh white cover over it, and when the door opened and Mildred came in carefully carrying the white tray with the good things to eat on it and the pretty geraniums, her mother was delighted.
"Oh, how good it looks," she exclaimed. "Mildred, did you really make that soup? And poach that beautiful egg? And actually make that junket? Well, I never did see anything so perfectly lovely. I'm proud to have such a daughter!" Then she ate everything, and declared her throat was almost well already.
In spite of that, however, the doctor made Mrs. Blair stay in bed several days, so that Mildred learned to make quite a number of new dishes for sick people. For one breakfast she gave her cereal with cream and bits of dates; for one luncheon she had the chicken broth, and for one supper cream toast and baked custard; she had goldenrod eggs, too, when her mother's throat was better, and baked apple. All of these things she wrote down in her book so she would not forget how to make any of them.