“What are they?”
“One is to make Emma well acquainted with every dish beforehand. Let her understand how things ought to be and to look when properly cooked; on no account let the final touches be the product of her imagination as exercised in carrying out your descriptive order.”
“No, that would scarcely do,” said Mabel, laughing.
“Well, the only way to prevent it is to make the most of the time between now and the important day. Have potato soup one day, rolled mutton another, tomatoes farcies, and ready-made pudding a third, and macaroni cheese a fourth, and so make her familiar with what is coming.”
“And the second point?”
“I was going to suggest that if you have anything served in a style superior to your ordinary mode, you should try to keep Emma up to the better way as a regular thing. This will really be a great kindness to her. It will make her more skilful, and fit her for taking a better situation afterwards, and, strange to say, she will be all the happier for it. Right-minded girls (and I should quite think Emma is one) are glad to be shown refined ways, and they respect a mistress who understands and insists upon the best modes of doing things far more than they respect a mistress who lets things go, and puts up with slipshod fashions just for the sake of peace and quiet. And really you will find that when Emma knows what ought to be, all you will need to impress upon her is the time required for the various dishes.”
“That is it precisely,” said Mabel, who had been listening very quietly to her friend’s remarks, but who was evidently giving all her thoughts to the subject in hand. “I can see now exactly what I shall have to do. I shall make out a list of every ingredient, and have everything where it will be close to my hand, the day but one before the dinner. The day before I shall make the jelly and, with Emma’s help, brighten all the glass and silver, and look out any pretty ornaments and services. Then quite early on the eventful morning I shall make the soup, and put it ready for making hot; yes, I shall even fry and dish the sippets and chop the parsley, which will have to be sprinkled in at the last moment. I shall stuff and roll the mutton, dish the sour plums (those delightful sour plums! they were there without needing to be in the estimate; how good it was of Frau Bergmann to give them to me). I shall stuff the tomatoes, turn out the jelly, dish the dessert, arrange the coffee cups and saucers—but, oh, the coffee, what shall I do for that? Emma never makes it properly.”
“Few servants do; and if I were you I should look after it yourself in this case. The coffee is so very important. Really good coffee, served at the close even of an unsuccessful dinner, almost atones for disaster, while inferior coffee spoils the most recherché repast. Why should you not steal away for a minute or two when your friends leave the dining-room, make the coffee, and send Emma in with it. Then all is sure to be right.”
“Yes, that will be best. Well, as I was saying, I must be as busy as possible before luncheon. Then, after luncheon——”
“After luncheon I should lie down for an hour,” said Amy.