LAYING THE CLOTH.
It was a pleasant sight to see a dozen young girls in snowy caps and aprons, note-book and pencil in hand, with a grave expression on their rosy countenances as they seated themselves to listen to their acknowledged leader, who was to announce the orders of the day.
I am not going to tell you much about their disappointments. I will only say they were determined to master one of the most important duties in life for girls—so they all said. At first too many girls would "put their fingers in the pie" at a time, so to speak; consequently the "meringues" would not froth properly, the "croquettes" would fall apart, and the biscuits resemble dough.
But they had the dancing to encourage them, added to the thought of duty; so they persevered, until at last one might peep into one of the loveliest dining-rooms, now their head-quarters, and really feel tempted by the goodly array of dishes.
The head cook not long since declared to me that she could peel potatoes, prepare vegetables and salads, and—But there, I can not give a list of all her culinary accomplishments; it would be too long.
From a small club of school-girls the affair has assumed the dignity of an association numbering nearly fifty young ladies. But what has all this to do with the ball? you may ask.
WASHING DISHES.
The ball was the crowning event of the association's long existence of five years; in fact, it was a sort of culinary Commencement, and the graduates now commence life as Maidens of Arts—culinary arts, of course.
They have made their courtesy to the world, and now retire. Early in September or October a new Maidens' Association will spring up; but, as these dignified ladies of eighteen patronizingly declare, they will only be little girls—beginners. What a wonderful advantage it is to be so elderly and dignified!