The Story Book Girls

by S. R. Crockett

  CHAPTER VI

  The Mayonnaise

  The girls gave a party to celebrate the recovery of Cuthbert. They wereallowed to do this on one condition, that they made everything for itthemselves.

  This was Mr. Leighton's idea, and it found rapturous approval in theranks of the family, and immediate rebellion in the heart of Mrs.Leighton. It was her one obstinacy that she should retain full hold ofthe reins of housekeeping. Once let a lot of girls into the kitchen,and where are you?

  "Once let a lot of girls grow up with no kind of responsibility in life,and where are you then?" asked Mr. Leighton. "I don't want my girls todrift. No man is really healthy unless he is striving after something,if it's only after finding a new kind of beetle. I don't see how a girlcan be healthy without a definite occupation."

  "They make their beds, and they have their music," sighed Mrs. Leighton."Girls in my day didn't interfere with the housekeeping."

  "I've thought about their music," said Mr. Leighton. "I'm glad they haveit. But it isn't life, you know. A drawing-room accomplishment isn'tlife. I want them to be equipped all round. Not just by taking classeseither. Classes end by making people willing to be taught, but theexperiences of life make them very swift to learn. We can't have themsitting dreaming about husbands for ever. Dreams and ideals are allvery well, but one scamps the realities if one goes on at them too long.Elma means to marry a duke, you know. Isn't it much better that in themeantime she should learn to make a salad?"

  "The servants will be so cross," said Mrs. Leighton. She invariably sawreadily enough where she must give in, but on these occasions she nevergave in except with outward great unwillingness.

  "Oh, perhaps not," said Mr. Leighton. "They have dull enough livesthemselves. I'm sure it will be rather fun for them to see Mabel makingcakes."

  "Mabel can't make cakes," exclaimed Mrs. Leighton. Her professionaltalents were really being questioned here. Throughout the length andbreadth of the country, nobody made cakes like Mrs. Leighton.

  Mr. Leighton grew a little bit testy.

  "You know, my dear, if this house were a business concern it would beyour duty to take your eldest daughter into partnership at this stage.As it is, you seem to want to keep her out for ever."

  Mrs. Leighton sighed heavily.

  "That's just it, John," said she; "I want to keep her out for ever. Iwant them all to remain little children, and myself being mother tothem. Since Mabel got her hair up--already it's different. I feel inan underhand sort of way that I'm being run by my own daughter--I reallydo."

  "More like by your own son," said Mr. Leighton. "The way you give in tothat boy is a disgrace."

  "Oh, Cuthbert's different," said Mrs. Leighton brightly.

  "Poor Mabel," smiled Mr. Leighton.

  It was an old subject with them, thrashed out again and again, eversince Cuthbert as a rather spoiled child of seven had had his littlenose put out of joint by the first arrival of girls in the imperiousperson of Mabel. Mrs. Leighton had always felt a little grieved with theabsurdly rapid manner in which Mr. Leighton's affections had gone overto Mabel.

  "In any case, try them with the party," said he. "The only thing thatcan happen is for the cook to give notice."

  "And I shall have to get another one, of course." Mrs. Leighton's voicedwelt in a suspiciously marked manner on the pronoun.

  "Now there's another opportunity for making use of Mabel," said herhusband.

  Mrs. Leighton let her hands fall.

  "Engage my own servants! What next?" she asked.

  "Oh, I don't know," said he. "Cuthbert does heaps of things for me.You women are the true conservatives. If we had you in power therewould be no chance for the country."

  "Well, you might have persuaded Cuthbert to succeed you as Chairman ofyour Company, with a steady income and all that sort of thing," sheexclaimed, "instead of rushing him into a profession which keeps himtied night and day, and gives him no return as yet for all his work."

  "I should never stand in the way of enthusiasm," said her husband."Cuthbert has a real genius for his profession."

  "Then why not find a profession for Mabel?"

  "I have thought of that. It seems right, however, that a man ought tobe equipped for one profession, and a girl for several. I can alwaysleave my girls enough money to keep the wolf from the door at least. Ihave an objection to any girl being obliged to work entirely for herliving. Men ought to relieve them of that at least. But we must givethem occupation; work that develops. Come, come, my dear; you must letthem have their head a little, even although they ruin the cakes. Agood mother makes useless daughters, you know."

  "Well, it's a wrench, John."

  "There, there," he smiled at her.

  "And the servants are sure to give notice."

  She regretted much of her pessimism, however, when she gave the news tothe girls. Not for a long time had they been so animated. Each tookher one department in the supper menu prepared under the guidance ofMrs. Leighton.

  First, chicken salad inserted into a tomato, cut into water-lily shape,reposing on lettuce leaves--one on each little plate, mayonnaisedressing on top.

  The mayonnaise captured Mabel.

  "But you can't make it, it's a most trying thing to do--better let cookmake it," interjected Mrs. Leighton.

  "What about our party?" asked Mabel.

  "Very well," said an abject mother.

  So that was settled.

  Then fruit salad, immediately claimed by Jean, who knew everything therewas to be known of fruit, inside and out, as she explained volubly.Mrs. Leighton's quiet face twitched a trifle and then resolved itselfinto business lines once more.

  Meringues! they must have meringues! Nobody seemed to rise to that.Elma felt it was her turn.

  "They look awfully difficult," said she, "but I could try a day or twobefore. I'll do the meringues."

  This cost her a great effort. Mother didn't appear at all encouraging,She snipped her lips together in rather a grim way, and it had theeffect of sending a cold streak of fear up and down the back of themeringue volunteer.

  "Are they very difficult, mummy?" she asked apologetically.

  "Oh, no," said Mrs. Leighton airily. "After mayonnaise, one may doanything."

  "I can whip cream--beautifully," explained Elma. "It's that queer crustything I'm afraid of."

  "I shall be ruined in eggs, I see that very distinctly," said Mrs.Leighton.

  After this, there seemed to be no proper opportunity for Betty.

  "Couldn't I make a trifle?" she asked modestly. "A trifle at ten." Mrs.Leighton looked her over. "Oh! very well--Betty will make trifle."

  Betty looked as though she would drop into tears. Elma put her handthrough her arm and whispered while the others debated about cakes, "Ican find out all about trifles. Miss Grace knows. She made themcen--centuries ago, and Miss Annie never lets the new cooks try."

  Betty turned on her a happy face.

  "Oh, Elma, you're most reviving," she said gratefully.

  Then they had cakes to consider. Now and again they had been allowed tobake cakes, and they felt that here they were on their own ground.Betty revived in a wonderful manner, and immediately insisted on bakinga gingerbread one.

  "Nobody eats gingerbread at parties," said Mabel in a disgusted voice."This isn't a picnic we're arranging, or a school-room tea. It's agrown-up party, and we just aren't going to have gingerbread."

  "Yet I've sometimes thought that gingerbread at a party tasted verywell," remarked Mrs. Leighton.

  "Oh, mummy!" Mabel seemed very sorry for her mother.

  But Betty had regained her confidence.

  "I shall bake gingerbread," she exclaimed in her most dogged manner.

  "There are always the rabbits, of course," said Jean, with her nose inthe air.

  "Girls, girls," said Mrs. Leighton.

  "Gingerbread one, walnut cream cake another. What wi
ll you bake, Jean?"

  "Orange icing," quoth Jean.

  "And sponge cake cream for Elma," she added in a thoughtful way.

  "I do like the way you fling all the uninteresting things at me,"exclaimed Elma. "I think sponge cake cream is the moistest, flabbiest,silliest cake I know. We're putting cream in everything. Everybodywill be sick of cream. Why can't I bake a coffee cake?"

  "Why can't she?" asked Mrs. Leighton severely.

  "Coffee cake, Elma," said Mabel. She had taken to paper and pencil. "Ionly hope we shall know what it is when it appears!"

  "And you'd better all begin as soon as you can," said Mrs. Leighton; "sothat we find out where we are a few days before the party occurs."

  She still looked with foreboding on the whole arrangement.

  Cook preserved a hauteur on the subject of the invasion, through whichthe girls found it very hard to break.

  "Never seed such a picnic," she informed the housemaid. "My, you shouldhave been here when Miss Betty burned her gingerbread!"

  That was a sad occasion, and after all, there was nothing for it but therabbits. Betty moaned over the lost raisins, the "ginger didn't count.""I stoned every one of them," she sighed. Mr. Leighton found some brownlumps in the rabbit hutches. "That's not the thing for these beasts,"he said; "what is it?" And Betty explained that it would be quite safefor them, for (once more) hadn't she stoned every raisin herself?

  "I'm glad you're a millionaire, John," said Mrs. Leighton grimly whenshe heard about it.

  Elma made Betty try again. Elma's heart was in her mouth about her ownperformances, but she hung over Betty till a success was secured to thegingerbread. Then she couldn't get the kitchen for her coffee cake,because Mabs, in a neat white apron and sleeves, was ornamenting aragged-looking structure of white icing with little dabs of pink, andtrying to write "Cuthbert" in neat letters across the top. She hadprepared a small cake--"just to taste it." They all tasted. It seemedrather crumply.

  "Isn't there a good deal of walnut in it?" asked Mrs. Leighton humbly.

  "It's nearly all walnut," said Mabel. "I like walnut."

  Jean worried along with her piece.

  "Nobody will survive this party," said she.

  At last Elma's coffee cake got its innings. She was so nervous afterthe gingerbread fiasco that only the ultimate good humour of Cook savedher.

  "Don't hurry over it, Miss Elma; it's coming nicely. I'll tell you whento stop beating."

  Nothing else would have guaranteed the existence of the cake. Cook alsosaw to the firing. This gave Elma such a delightful feeling ofgratitude that she opened out her heart on the subject of meringues.Cook said that of course it was easy for them "as had never tried" justto rush in and make meringues the first thing. The likes of herselffound them "kittlish" things. You may make meringues all your life, andthen they'll go wrong for no reason at all. It was "knack" that waswanted principally.

  "Do you think I've got knack, Cook?" asked Elma humbly.

  Cook gave her a clear night in the kitchen for the meringues, as areward for her humility. It was marvellous that nearly all of them camefairly decently. Cook found the shapes "a bit queer," but "them as knew"who was providing the party wouldn't think they were "either here orthere."

  "I'll make it up with the cream," quoth Elma happily. A great load wasoff her mind.

  She now devoted herself to Betty's trifle. As a great triumph theydecided to provide a better trifle than even Cook knew how to prepare.Miss Grace entered heartily into the plan. They were allowed to callone morning when she was ensconced in the parlour. Saunders brought insolemnly, first, several sheets of white paper. These were laid veryseriously on the bare finely-polished table. Then came a plate ofsponge cake in neat slices, a thin custard in a glass jug, severallittle dishes, one of blanched almonds cut in long strips, another ofhalved cherries, one of tiny macaroon biscuits, and so on. Miss Graceset herself in a high chair, and proceedings began. Elma wondered tothe end of her days what kind of a cook Miss Grace would have made ifshe had been paid for her work. Everything was prepared for Miss Grace,but she took an hour and a quarter to finish the trifle. She addedcustard in silver spoonfuls as though each one had a definite effect ofits own, and she several times measured the half glassful of cordialwhich was apportioned to each layer of sponge cake. The ceremony seemedinterminable. Elma saw how true it was what her father often said, thatone ought always to have a big enough object in life to keep one frompaying too much importance to trifles. She immediately afterwardsapologized to herself for the pun, which, she explained in that halfworld of dreaming to which she so often resorted, she hadn't at allintended.

  Elma and Betty, however, to the end of their days, never forgot how tomake trifle.

  Betty's trifle was a magnificent success.

  Jean engaged a whole fruiterer's shop, as it seemed, for her salad, andfound she made enough for forty people out of a fourth of what she hadordered. This put Mrs. Leighton back into her old prophetic position.Had she not told Jean a quarter of that fruit would be enough?

  Mabel arranged everything in good order for her chicken concoction, andat last had only the mayonnaise to make. That occurred on the afternoonof the party. Cuthbert and Harry and Mr. Maclean were allabout--supposed to be helping. May Turberville, Betty's great friend,and her brother Lance, a boy of fourteen, brought round various loans inthe way of cups and cream and sugar "things." The table in thedining-room was laid for supper with a most dainty centre-piece deckedwith roses and candelabra. Most of their labours being over, thecompany retreated to the smoke-room, where "high jinks" were soon inprocess. Lance capered about, balancing chairs on his nose, and doingthe wild things which only take place in a smoke-room.

  In the midst of it appeared Mabel, wide-eyed and distressed, at thedoor. The white apron of a few days ago was smeared with littleelongated drops of oily stuff. She held a fork wildly dripping in herhand.

  "Oh--oh, isn't it awful," she cried, "the mayonnaise won't may."

  It was the last anxiety, and, in the matter of the pints of the Leightongirls, quite the last straw. Just when they had begun to be confidentof their party, the real backbone of the thing had given out.

  Dr. Harry removed a cigarette from his lips.

  "Hey--what's that?" he asked. "Mayonnaise--ripping! I knew an AmericanJohnnie who made it. Bring it here, and we'll put it right."

  Mabel spread her hands mutely. "In this atmosphere?" she asked.

  Oh! They had soon the windows open. Harry insisted he could makemayonnaise. "You don't meet American men for nothing, let me tell you,"he said. It was fun to see him supplied with plate, fork and bottles.He looked at Mabel's attempt at dressing.

  "Good gracious!" he said, "where's the egg?"

  Mabel turned rather faint. "I put in the white," said she.

  Dr. Harry roared. Then he explained carefully and kindly.

  "Mayonnaise is an interesting affair--apart from the joys of eating it.A chemical action takes place between the yoke of an egg and the oil andvinegar. You could hardly expect the white to play up."

  "It was Cook," exclaimed Mabel. "She said something about yokes for acustard and whites for--for----"

  "Meringues, you donkey," said Jean.

  Dr. Harry made the mayonnaise.

  Lance Turberville cut the most shameful capers throughout. He decoratedHarry with paper aprons and the cap of a chef, and stuck his eyeglass inthe wrong eye while Harry worked patiently with a fork in semicircles.He was sent off with Betty and May, only to reappear later dressed outas a maid-servant. Nobody except Dr. Harry could take the mayonnaiseseriously while Lance was about. At that moment the outdoor bell rang.With the inspiration born of mischief, and before any one could stophim, Lance rushed off and opened it.

  Three ladies stood on the doorstep.

  He showed them solemnly into the drawing-room, tripping over his skirtmerely a trifle, and nearly giving Bertha, who had primly come to attendto the do
or, hysterics. He advanced to the smoke-room, where themayonnaise was nearly completed.

  "Mrs. and Miss Dudgeon and Miss Steven are in the drawing-room," saidLance.