“Where is Cecilly?” she asked, and on my telling her Cecilly was out, giving music lessons, she told me she had tickets for a concert that afternoon, and she knew how much she would like to go.
I knew so too, and at once said I would leave my cooking till the afternoon and finish a smart blouse Cecilly had been making for herself.
“Do let me do the cooking while you sew,” Cynthia asked, but I said she had better not as the dinner was to be what the boys called a triumph of “mind over matter,” meaning a dinner was to be made out of scraps, which was always tiring work. But Cynthia insisted on being cook.
I had already sent Beatrice Ethel, the little boot-girl, out for a quart of skimmed or separated milk which Cecilly made into Sago Soup: Take three or four onions and boil them in the milk till soft enough to run through a sieve. Boil six large potatoes and rub through sieve. Put all back into milk with pepper and salt. Add a teacup of sago, tapioca, rice, or some macaroni. But sago is best. Send up fried bread with this.
Our meat course was to be breakfast pies, and as there were some scraps over, Cynthia made a mulligatawny pâté, which would come in for breakfast.
Our pudding was a German Pudding: 1 lb. flour, 1 teaspoonful of carbonate of soda rubbed into the flour, 6 oz. of scraped fat, ½ lb. treacle melted in milk. To be boiled for three hours. This would have been sufficient for our dinner, but Cynthia begged to make a few jam tarts, as she “loved making pastry.” Whey they were finished, she had a piece of pastry over, which she turned into Cheese Puffs. She rolled out her paste, sprinkled it thickly with cheese and “Paisley Flour,” repeating the process several times. She brushed them over with a little egg, and baked them at once. I suggested, as we were well off for milk, she might make a custard to eat with our pudding, with “Bird’s Custard Powder,” but only on condition that she asked leave to come back with Cecilly to help us eat such a grand dinner. Lately I had noticed that she had been allowed to accept our invitations for the evening, and although it seemed a mistake for Jack to be in her company too often, it was such a delight for him to find her with us when he returned home, I could not resist asking her.
Cecilly had of course accepted Cynthia’s invitation to the concert with much delight, and I, having locked up the house, had spent a pleasant afternoon with dear Aunt Jane, who had given me a great bunch of beautiful white lilies, and a basket of gooseberries for the boys.
I was only just back when I heard Cecilly’s knock, and finding her alone I asked if Cynthia were not coming to dinner.
“Yes, indeed she is,” answered Cecilly, “and what do you think? Mr. Marriott has invited himself also!”
“Oh, Cecilly,” I cried. “You must go at once and get some fish and some fruit,” but Cecilly interrupted me, saying—