To be sure, little Kenneth was still all agog. In his small brain this day was hopelessly confused with April-Fool’s-Day, which was the latest special occasion in his narrow experience. He ran around from one to another, crying excitedly, “Look a-hind you!” and then shrieked in great glee, “Apple-fool!” enjoying to the full the unfailing surprise of each person, however often he tried it.
By ten o’clock, however, came the great excitement of the day, making ice-cream in the back-kitchen. Will and Archie, and even seventeen-year-old Donald, pounded the ice which Thomas had already put there, in a big tub, while Marjorie measured the cream and milk and put in the sugar.
It seemed to be part of the programme regularly to forget the flavouring till the cream was in the can and the dasher adjusted. Then, at the last moment, it would suddenly be remembered, and off must come the cover, to the boys’ disgust, with imminent danger of a deposit of salt within, while the flavouring was added. Then they would find that they could not put back the dasher in its place without taking out the can. So out would come the can, and the cream must be poured out, the dasher slipped in place, all the ice and salt taken out of the freezer, in order to put the can back, and the whole thing repacked. All this served to “vary the monotony,” Donald remarked.
To-day, however, Marjorie, who was chief-cook, had the flavouring in her mind from the beginning, and she gave the cream a liberal supply of lemon extract.
“Will you stir this for a moment, please, Eunice,” she said, as Eunice came into the pantry just then, where Marjorie stood. “I want to speak to cook.”
Eunice gave it a stir, as Marjorie went out, and then bethought herself of the flavouring.
“We won’t forget it this time,” she thought. “I know Marjorie has not remembered it. She never does.” She surveyed the extract-bottles for a moment.
“I believe bitter-almond ice-cream would be nice,” she thought. “I’ve never tasted any, but it makes a nice flavour for frosting and cake. I wonder how much it takes? I guess half a bottle, certainly, for all this cream,” and in went the bitter-almond, for Eunice had not the vaguest idea of the necessary quantity.
“Oh, Marjorie,” she called, “I’ve just put in—”
“Do come here, Eunice, I don’t think the boys have chopped this ice fine enough, and they say it will do,” interrupted Marjorie. “Cricket, you go and stir the cream.”