"You've been listening."
"No, I've not. I was here first, and you came and talked. But that doesn't matter. I shan't tell. What's a baronet?"
Aunt Victoria explained, and then turned her out of the room. Uncle James was crossing the hall at the moment; he had a large bunch of keys in his hand, and went through the double-doors which led to the kitchen and offices. Beth followed him into the kitchen. The cook, an old servant, came forward curtseying. The remains of yesterday's dinner, cold roast beef, tongue, chicken, and plum-pudding, were spread out on the table. Uncle James inspected everything.
"For luncheon," he said, "the beef can remain cold on the sideboard, also the tongue. The chicken you will grill for one hot dish, and do not forget to garnish with rolls of bacon. The pudding you can cut into slices, fry, and sprinkle with a little sifted sugar. Mind, I say a little; for, as the pudding is sweet enough already, the sugar is merely an ornament to make it agreeable to the eye. For the rest, as usual."
"Yes, sir. And dinner, sir?"
"Here is the menu." He handed her a paper. "I will give you out what is necessary."
He led the way down a stone passage to the store-room door, which he unlocked.
"I am out of sifted sugar, sir," the cook said nervously.
"What, again?" Uncle James sternly demanded. "This is only Thursday, and I gave you some out on Saturday."
"Yes, sir, but only a quarter of a pound, sir, and I had to use it for the top of the rice-pudding, and the pancakes, and the Charlotte Russe, and the plum-pudding——"