“Now,” she said to Clementine, “have you an ice crusher?”
“I don’t know, I’m sure,” said Clementine, helplessly; “what is it like?”
Patty laughed; “I’ll find it,” she said, and after a short search she did. Then she set Clementine to crushing ice for the oysters, a task which that young woman accomplished successfully and with great pride in her own achievement.
“All right,” said Patty, with an abstracted air; “now toast these rounds of bread, while you can have the fire; and then put them in the oven to keep hot.”
This performance was not so successful, for when Clementine showed her plate of toast it was a collection of burnt crisps and underdone, spongy bread.
“For goodness’ sake!” exclaimed Patty, “can’t you toast better than that? They won’t do at all. Cut some more bread and hurry up about it!”
“You said you’d be cross,” murmured Clementine, as she cut more bread; “but you didn’t say you’d snap my head off like a raging tiger.”
Both girls laughed, but Patty toasted the bread herself, as she wasn’t willing to take any more chances in that direction.
But the real excitement began when the luncheon hour actually arrived.
Though not exactly nervous, Patty’s mind was strung to a certain tension which can only be appreciated by those who know the sensations of an amateur cook preparing a formal meal.