"How?" said Uncle James—"the plum-pudding, which is not yet fried?"
"Beg pardon, sir. I'm all confused. But, however," she added desperately, "the sugar is done."
"Well, I suppose I must give you some more this time. But do not let it occur again. You may weigh out a quarter of a pound."
When that was done, Uncle James consulted a huge cookery-book which lay on a shelf in the window. "We shall require another cake for tea," he said, and then proceeded to read the recipe aloud, keeping an observant eye upon the cook as she weighed out the various ingredients.
"And the kitchen meals, sir?" she asked, as he locked up the store-room.
"Make what you have do," he said, "make what you have do."
"But there is hardly meat enough to go round once, sir."
"You must make it do. People are much healthier and happier when they do not eat too much."
This ceremony over, he went to the poultry-yard, followed by Beth (who carefully kept in the background), the yard-boy, and the poultry-maid who carried some corn in a sieve, which she handed to her master when he stopped. Uncle James scattered a little corn on the ground, calling "chuck! chuck! chuck!" at the same time, in a dignified manner. Chickens, ducks, turkeys and guinea-fowl collected about him, and he stood gazing at them with large light prominent eyes, blandly, as if he loved them—as indeed he did when they appeared like ladies at table, dressed to perfection.
"That guinea-fowl!" he decided, after due consideration.