“Be careful of my cake when you look at your meat,” reminded Helen, coming and tucking her spice-cake in beside the meat as she spoke. “How are you getting on, Adelaide?”
“Not at all,” said Adelaide ashamedly. “I don’t believe I know how to make salads.”
“Come help me set the table, then,” invited Helen.
“All right,” said Adelaide, getting up slowly from her kitchen chair, and flinging her long, untidy braids back over her shoulders.
“No, Helen, please!” said Winona. “Let me show Adelaide. I think we can make a perfectly lovely salad in a few minutes.”
“All right, Winnie!” said Helen cheerfully, and vanished into the dining-room alone.
“I don’t see how!” said Adelaide. “I thought you had to have chicken or lobster or such things for salad—and I’m sure I’d curdle the dressing.”
“Of course you will if you expect to,” said Louise, setting her syrup on to boil, and beginning to pare and quarter apples and drop them in cold water so they wouldn’t brown. “Why don’t you make boiled dressing?”
“I didn’t know about it,” said Adelaide.
“Good gracious!” said Louise. “How on earth do you manage at your house?”