It was a good nut, even as Sir Toady had prophesied. He had been well taught at the canteen.
"Now," said the cordon bleu of Edam, "who wants to do a bit of grating for me?"
"I"—"I," shouted the children, and though I did not shout, I was really as ready as any one. The white inside was dealt out to us, and while the Maid and Sir Toady went at it (sometimes scraping their fingers by way of variety), a respectable pile of soft flaky nut, cream-colored and nice, began to appear.
When we were finished, Mrs. Donnan went to a bag, and measured out two tablespoonfuls of white sugar to each one of the nut-flake, dropped the whole into a sizeable patty pan, and poured the milk of the cocoa-nut over it.
With Mrs. Donnan stirring hard, the whole was soon bubbling away cheerfully—indeed, boiling like what lava does in a volcano (ought to, at any rate), the bubbles bursting, and the nice smell making your teeth water, so that it did not seem that you could ever wait for it to cool.
Then, just when the bubbles began to burst with a warning "pop," Mrs. Donnan turned everything into a well-buttered shallow dish. It made a cake about as thick as your finger, and oh, but the smell was good! But she laid the dish away in the ice-house—as she said, to cool. Really, I think, to keep us from temptation, and prevent too early experimenting upon the result.
Elizabeth Fortinbras would have none of us (not even me) in the front shop that day. She was too busy. So, after one question put and answered (it was about Hugh John), the three of us went out and walked in the garden till the ice-house had done its work.
Well, do you know, that candy was famous. Just you try it, with the explanations I have given you! It goes all right, you will find, and no mistake.
Indeed, so well did it go that a bargain was soon struck, and Elizabeth's clever fingers were busy printing out a placard: