Precisely at half-past one Patty placed on the dumb-waiter eight plates of grape-fruit, the appearance of which caused Clementine to clasp her hands in speechless admiration. Each golden hemisphere nestled in a bed of clear, cracked ice, and was marvellously decorated with crimson cherries and glossy, green orange leaves.
After this the various courses followed one another in what seemed to the girls maddeningly rapid succession.
Clementine soon discovered that she could do only the simplest things, but her quick wit enabled her to help in other ways, by getting the dishes ready and handing Patty such things as she wanted.
It was a thrilling hour, but Patty’s spirits rose as one course after another turned out the very acme of perfection. The croquettes were the loveliest golden brown, the quail broiled to a turn, the lobster hot in its paper cases and the salad a dream of cold, crisp beauty. At last they reached the dessert. This was a complicated affair with various adjuncts in the way of sauces and whipped cream. The main part was frozen and was packed in a large tub of ice and salt. Clementine volunteered to get this out, and as Patty was busy, she let her do it.
But alas, the inexperienced girl opened the pudding-mould before taking it from the freezer, the salt water rushed in, and in a moment the delicious confection was totally uneatable.
Patty grasped the situation, Clementine fully expected she would be cross, now if ever; but, as Patty afterward explained, the occasion was too critical for that.
“The dessert is spoiled!” she said, in an awe-stricken whisper. “We must make another!”
“What out of?” asked Clementine, in the same hushed tone.
“I don’t know; what have you in the house?”
“Bread!” exclaimed Clementine, with a sudden inspiration from the loaf on the table.