“I knew what it would be,” she exclaimed. “It is not a letter at all! Just a set of nonsense rules for housekeepers.”
“Read it out,” laughed Marion. But now Jane was laughing herself too much to do so. So Marion took up the paper and began.
“‘Rules for the Guidance of Young Housekeepers.
“‘Rule 1. If you wish to chop suet but have no chopper, go to the coal-cellar and take the coal-hammer. A good housewife will always do this.’”
“The idea!” cried Jane. “He once heard me reading out the notes I had made on a demonstration to working women that one of the teachers at the cookery school gave to the students. She was always telling us how to contrive cleverly, but she certainly never said that!”
Marion continued:—
“‘Rule 2. If a dainty savoury is required at a short notice, carefully remove the jam from some raspberry tarts of the first water, and fill in the vacuum thus obtained with selected portions of curry-powder mingled with lard.’”
“Is that another reminiscence of yours, Jennie?” laughed Ada.
“No, certainly not. But it reminds one of the sort of advice given in some of the ‘answers to correspondents’ in the cookery columns of a fashion paper. He must have bought one and got the style without the substance. He and Jimmy Spriggins must have concocted this between them.”
Jimmy Spriggins was Basil Orlingbury’s chosen friend, and was known as his companion in mild practical jokes of this nature. Jennie took the paper from Ada and read on.