“You go, Marjorie,” said Nan.
So Marjorie opened the door and faced again the persistent crowd of venders. The Parkins butcher, the grocer, the baker, milkman, vegetable-man, fish-man, all stood, beaming and expectant.
“The club will please come to order!” said Marjorie, turning to the girls. “These claimants must be satisfied. What, ladies of the Blue Ribbon Cooking Club, what, I ask you, do you want to eat?”
A serious silence fell on the crowd. They realized that at last they must cope with the great question.
“We’ll divide forces and appoint committees,” went on the president. “Betty, you and Jessie order the meat—whatever you like; Nan, do up the baker; Marguerite, the milkman; Helen and Hester, reason with the vegetarian; and Millikens and I will attend to the grocer.”
Nan soon despatched the baker with a standing order of two loaves per day, subject to amendment. Marguerite discussed the milk problem at length with good-natured old Farmer Hobbs, and wound up by deciding on two quarts every morning, or three quarts if there was a clothes-pin on the pail which he would find on the back steps; also a quart of cream each morning, with a like understanding of the clothes-pin. “For,” said the sagacious Matron, “what with whips and charlottes, we’ll need a lot of cream.”
Helen and Hester decided they would attend to their department in an orderly and systematic manner. Taking the index of a cookery-book for a guide, they decided they would eat their vegetables alphabetically.
“Have you any artichokes?” said Hester.
“No, mum,” replied the man, looking as if she had asked for a salamander.
“Any Brussels sprouts?” asked Helen.