“No, cut it,” said Nan; “it’s so young and tender.”
“Well, cut it, Rosie,” went on the Matron; “and then boil the cauliflower for twenty minutes in salted water—oh, you’d better do that before you fix the corn, so it can get ice-cold for the salad.”
“But, Rosie,” put in Nan, “first I wish you’d get out the eggs for me; and just open this box of gelatine and put it to soak in cold water.”
“There ain’t no eggs, miss,” announced Rosie, after a search in the cupboard.
“Oh, what a shame! I’ve set my heart on making a snow pudding. Well, Rosie, can’t you run over to the grocer’s and get some? It won’t take a minute.”
“Yes’m,” said the willing maid, and away she went.
“Oh, dear!” groaned Marguerite, “she didn’t put the cauliflower on to cook; she might have done that before she started.”
“I’ll do it,” said Nan. “Is it that it must be washed?”
“Yes, of course; oh—no—I don’t know,” replied Marguerite, somewhat vaguely. “Does it look soiled?”
“Not much,” said Nan, cheerfully; “just a few stains of good old Mother Earth on its fair face. That won’t hurt anybody—so here goes.”