During the time it took to bring it to the boil, she buttered the scallop-shells and proceeded thus:—A layer of breadcrumbs, a layer of fish, salt and pepper to taste, a layer of breadcrumbs, sprinkled with small lumps of butter, and so on, taking care to heap the materials well up in the centre of the shell, and to scatter the last layer of breadcrumbs liberally with butter; the scallops were then placed on a baking-sheet ready for cooking, twenty minutes being sufficient to brown them nicely.
After boiling for five minutes, the contents of the saucepan were strained into a jug with a lip, and when sufficiently cool to prevent curdling, the well-beaten yolks of two eggs were stirred in. The directions, Nellie knew, were to pour constantly from one jug to another till nearly cold, but she had to content herself with doing this occasionally, whilst making the pastry for the tart.
A ring at the bell announced the arrival of the greengrocer with the apples and lettuces. As Mary was busy in the upper regions, Nellie answered the door herself, returning quickly to prepare the apples, which she quartered and cored before peeling them, to keep the pieces whole.
By this time the lemon-cream was cool enough for her to add carefully the strained juice of the lemons, stirring briskly the while, after which it was poured into the cups, and these were surrounded with cold water to set the cream quickly.
“Now for the mutton,” said Nellie to herself, proceeding to cut up the joint. “No wonder the boys said it was like ‘old boots,’ and I fear its toughness isn’t entirely due to under-cooking! Well, ‘cannelon’ is a splendid way of using tough meat,” she thought, first reserving several thick slices to be converted into mock cutlets next day, and then grinding the rest in the mincing-machine. The minced meat was well seasoned with salt, pepper, parsley, thyme, and a dessertspoonful of Harvey’s sauce, adding a soupçon of finely-chopped onion, half a cupful of breadcrumbs and a well-beaten egg. She made the mixture into balls rather larger than a walnut, and placed them, wrapped in oiled paper, on a tin, to be baked in a moderate oven for half an hour. The tomato sauce was put in a lined saucepan ready to be heated, and the potatoes which Mary had peeled for that “early dinner” she cut into slices to be fried crisp and brown.
Mary was a tolerable plain cook; therefore, after directing her, Nellie was free to arrange fresh flowers in the dining-room, and to make the necessary additions to her toilet, before laying the luncheon, which she did herself, in order to send the handmaiden up to dress at a quarter to one.
The salad was soon made and prettily decorated, the beef arranged tastefully on a dish and garnished with parsley, and then Nellie whisked the whites of two eggs with a little sugar to a stiff froth, piling it in snowy billows amongst the golden creams, previously turned out into a glass dish. To this the custards in dainty little cups made an excellent vis-à-vis, the salad occupying a central position on the table.
Mr. Vernon, entering the dining-room with the guest, was abundantly satisfied with the result of Nellie’s busy morning. Spotless damask, bright electro-plate and glass, go far to making up for costly dishes or priceless silver, and the luncheon-table, decorated by an old gold centre-piece, with sprays of fiery Virginia creeper, and vases of citron chrysanthemums, was a picture. He could not but observe the quick look of admiration his daughter called forth when he presented Mr. Laurence.
She presided at lunch with a gentle dignity, conversing with the visitor, her father and the two boys, and betraying no anxiety about the arrangements, which insouciance Mary tried to deserve by changing the courses as deftly as she could. Mr. Vernon, perhaps for the first time, realised what a treasure he possessed in one who, at such short notice, could provide a luxurious meal, and have house, servant, herself and her little brothers, looking the pink of neatness to do honour to any friend of his.
Possibly Mr. Laurence was clever enough to read between the lines, for the lawyer’s modest circumstances were well known; at any rate, the luncheon-party, which Nellie triumphantly assured her father had only necessitated the outlay of four shillings, was the means of introducing the Squire of Templemeade to his future wife.