Carolyn Wells

“ Then Betty invaded the kitchen, and peeped into the soup-kettle, remarking: “I don’t think there’s very much there; I could eat all that myself. What else is there, Hester?”
Hester’s menu seemed small to hungry Betty, and she said so; and Marguerite observed:
“I offered to make a salad, but Hester said no.”
“We’ll do it, all the same,” said Betty. “Hester may rule Britannia if she wants to, but she can’t rule Hilarity Hall. Come on, Daisy; let’s mutiny. As Peeler-in-Chief I’ll peel some tomatoes, and you stir up a mayonnaise.” ”

“ The old corner cupboard disclosed griddles and gridirons, saucepans and frying-pans; rows of shining tins hung over the sink; egg-beaters and syllabub-churns smiled out at them from the shelves; and a big fat pudding-mold beamed a welcome from its corner.
Betty seized two tin kettle-covers, and, clashing them like cymbals, broke into the club’s “battle-song,” which they sang on every possible occasion. Marjorie played an accompaniment on the coffee-mill, Nan whisked in some trills with the egg-beater, and they all sang:
Rub-a-dub-dub! ”

“ This lady beside me is my first gold-stick in waiting. But, alas! we are under an enchantment, and dare not leave this bed. If I were to set foot to the floor I should at once be changed into a red dragon breathing forth fire and flames.”
“Oh, Lor’, miss!” exclaimed Rosie, clasping her hands and gazing, horror-stricken, at Millicent’s tragic face.
“But there is one thing that will break the direful spell,” went on the mendacious maiden. “If any one should bring me a mug of mead and a golden pomegranate, I would be freed from the enchantment and regain my liberty.” ”

“ And they dabbed poor Betty’s eyes so energetically that they were redder than ever.
“Clear out, girls, or you’ll soon weep with those that weep,” cried Betty. “Go away; these are nearly done. Who’ll carry out the pan of skins?”
“ ‘Oh, promise me—oh, promise me-e-e!’ ” came floating out from the bedroom where Jessie was still arranging and rearranging her cherished belongings.
“Jessie ought to do some work,” said Millicent. “She’s too dainty and dressy for any use. She ought to be disciplined. Let’s make her come out here and be Scullery-maid.” ”

“ It was an appalling lot of luggage to which these checks entitled Uncle Ned; but he soon found a man with a big wagon, and trunks, wheels, and boxes were lifted into it and despatched to the cottage, while Marjorie received frantic expressions of affection from Timmy Loo, who had had quite enough of baggage-cars for one while.
Uncle Ned politely put the spare seats of his carriage at the disposal of the girls, but the loyal crowd refused to be divided. Not they indeed! They would find a conveyance that would hold them all, or they would walk. ”

“ With a flourish and a grand bow, Tom completed his speech and awaited a reply.
“It doesn’t seem quite right,” said Marguerite; but Betty said:
“Oh, bother! of course it’s all right. It’ll do you boys good to do a little work, and I, for one, accept your invitation with delight.”
“Me, too!” shouted all the other girls, and Marjorie inquired where the dinner would be served.
“In Hilarity Hall, of course,” said Tom. “But don’t ask questions, miss. When you’re invited out you mustn’t be rude.” ”

“ Lennox,” said the languid Lucy, “they do seem superior—all except that frivolous parlor-maid of yours. We wouldn’t like to have such a pretty one at home. But then, I have brothers.”
A heavy portière at the end of the dining-room waved convulsively at this, and the too pretty parlor-maid scurried away to a distant room where she could enjoy the joke with some of her fellow-servants.
Now one of Hester’s greatest feats was the concoction of Yorkshire pudding. It was the real thing, and was a favorite dish at the club table. ”

“ Hester was an English girl who had only been in America about a year, and was not yet quite accustomed to the rollicking ways of the rest of the club. “I think,” she went on slowly, “I may take my camera down, if you like; it’ll be rather good fun to take pictures of us all.”
“Yes, indeed; you must take your camera,” said Marjorie. “What larks! We’ll have jolly pictures. And if Helen takes her banjo we can sing songs and have concerts, and—oh, dear, the time won’t be half long enough!” ”

“ But the two heads were already bobbing down the walk, and didn’t hear Betty’s parting shot.
“Nell’s crazy,” remarked Millicent Payne, who always did everything leisurely, yet always had it done on time. “I do hope her barrel will go safely, for her tea-cups and things are lovely.”
“Shall we have tea every afternoon?” asked Marguerite Alden, a fragile wisp of a girl who looked as if a real strong ocean breeze would blow her away. “I’m so glad! I don’t care for the tea at all, but the having it with all us girls together will be such fun, only—I do hate to wash up the tea-things.” ”

“ Six merry laughs greeted this speech, and Nan replied: “Indeed they do, and I won’t allow more than three kinds of soup at any one meal. Now I’m off, Marjorie; I’ll meet you at the train—and oh, Duchess, I ’most forgot to ask you. Brother Jack says, can he and Ted come down and spend a day with us?”
“No, indeed!” cried Marjorie. “We are not going to allow a boy in sight all the time we are there. Tell them we’re sorry to refuse, but we’re not running a co-educational institution, and only girls need apply.” ”

“ The boys all wore aprons, having confiscated, with Rosie’s help, all those belonging to the club.
Big Tom Burleigh looked especially funny in a lacy, frilly little affair of Jessie’s, and as there had not been quite enough to go round, Harry Bond had made a big pinafore of newspapers. Then some of the boys had found time to make cooks’ paper caps for them all, and, with paper roses left from the night before in their buttonholes, their appearance was festive indeed.
The dining-room was a sight to behold. ”

“ Come on, Nan; the path of glory leads up to our cottage, and we must tread it like the brave heroes that we are.”
“When may we hope supper will be ready?” called out Jessie, as the Matron and the Poet wandered off.
“ ’Twill be served at six-thirty precisely,” replied Marguerite, with one of her unsuccessful attempts at a dignified mien. “Brush your hair and put on clean pinafores, and be prompt when the bell rings.”
“Aye, aye,” called out Hester; and the group on the beach watched the departing pair, and chuckled as they wondered what the two rattlepates would give them to eat. ”

“ Nan sang and Marguerite whistled, and occasionally they bumped against each other, and then waltzed a few turns around the kitchen.
“Now, Rosie, supply me with oil and vinegar and salt and pepper, and I’ll whisk up this mayonnaise in a jiffy. Phew! what’s burning?”
It was the cauliflower, but luckily it was only scorched on one side. Marguerite pared off the brown part, pronounced it done, and set it aside to cool.
“Don’t speak to me,” cried Nan, who was wildly manipulating a Dover beater; “this snow pudding won’t snow; it never will when I’m in a hurry.” ”

“ I’m the Chaperon, gay and frisky, etc.
“Oh, that’s awfully pretty!” cried Marjorie, as they tried it over to the accompaniment of Helen’s banjo. “Why, the play will be a howling success if we keep on like this.”
“Indeed it will—a howling, screaming success.”
“Now, Jessie, it’s your turn. Let’s see what a Scullery-maid can do at making a song for herself.”
“Oh, I couldn’t make a rime to save my life,” said Jessie, with such a scared look that everybody laughed.
“But you’ll have to,” cried Betty. “Every one of us must write our own song, whether we can do it or not.” ”

“ You’ll all be ill or starved to death in three days, and you’ll wish yourselves back in your comfortable homes.”
“Not we, grandma!” cried Betty. “We have a gas-stove and a range besides our beloved chafing-dish, and we won’t starve. But if Nan makes our Welsh rarebits I’ll not promise that we won’t be ill. Her concoctions are the stuff that dreams are made on. Oh, here’s Helen. What’s your misfortune, my pretty maid?”
Helen Morris came up on the veranda and dropped into a big wicker chair and fanned herself with her hat.
“Girls, I’m exhausted! ”

“ And Millicent sprang off the table and betook herself and her can to the Grotto.
“Oh, there’s kerosene all over the table—shall I scrub it, miss?” said Rosie, anxiously.
“No,” said the Matron; “just wipe it off with a dry cloth. Now lay the felt and then the table-cloth—so; no, wait, Rosie, get it perfectly straight; almost straight is crooked, you know. There, that will do.”
Marguerite arranged an embroidered centerpiece in place just as Helen came in with a dish of fruit.
“This is our dessert,” she announced. ”

“ It’ll be gay for corn-bread.”
“Who can make corn-bread? I can’t,” confessed Betty.
“Oh, yes, you can, if you try,” declared Marjorie. “Your cooking always turns out all right. Now, as we’re going to have steak for supper, what do you say to having fried onions? There are plenty here, and I do love ’em, don’t you?”
“Yes; and we never have them at home, they’re so—so intrusive. Let’s do it!”
“All right, Betty; and as you’ve announced yourself Peeler, you can begin your vocation. Oh, you’ve got a future before you!” ”

“ They can put a bone in a kettle of water, set it on the fire, and wag a bay-leaf at it, and behold a delicious soup! But I follow carefully that grimy old cookery-book, get out all the utensils in the cupboard, and stew myself into a salamander, and then I’ve only an uneatable mess as the result.”
“Never mind, my pretty parlor-maid,” said Marjorie; “some are born cooks—that’s me; some achieve cooks—that’s Mrs. Lennox; and some have cooking thrust upon them—and that’s what we’ll do after to-morrow. ”

“ This brought Lady Pendered’s lorgnon again into requisition, and she scanned Betty and Jessie until, as they afterward declared, they felt like waxworks at the Eden Musée.
Then the fun began. The two waitresses, intent on doing their best, were so careful and thoughtful that Mrs. Lennox grew more and more dignified and important, as befitted the mistress of such a fine establishment.
Hester and Marjorie sent in most deliciously cooked dishes, which were faultlessly served by the expert waitresses. ”

“ Then the trunks were unpacked, shelves divided fairly, hooks counted out, top bureau drawers tossed up for, and the settling process had begun.
Soon Betty’s voice was heard from below: “Don’t fiddle with your finery any longer now, girls; come on down and let’s see about supper.”
The six upstairs, feeling a responsive thrill, suspended operations at once and skipped down.
Then they all flocked out to the kitchen, and great and joyous were the exclamations of the Blue Ribbon Cooking Club when they beheld the completeness of the furnishings thereof. ”

“ Fenn went away well pleased with his order, and Millicent dropped into a kitchen chair exhausted.
“Girls,” said Hester, “you’ve run up an awful big order; do you suppose it will cost all our money?”
“Oh, no,” said the wise and matronly Marguerite, shaking her halo; “and, besides, most of those things won’t need to be ordered again; the staples will last us all the time we’re here. ”

“ I really can’t do anything but scour.
“That’s gay,” said Millicent, “and it’s specially funny for Jessie, who really is farther removed from scullery-maidism than any of the rest of us.”
“I don’t care,” said Jessie. “I’ll sing anything you want me to, if I don’t have to write it.”
“I’ll write Nan’s solo,” volunteered Hester. “It’s more fun to write each other’s than our own. ”

“ Bond,” said Marguerite. “I don’t see how we can have any fun if we have to work all the time.”
“Lazy Daisy!” said Betty. “You won’t do any more than your share. But we won’t let the interloper do any of our cooking; I insist on that.”
“All right, Betty,” said Marguerite, or Daisy, as the girls called her, though she wished they wouldn’t; “and you may be chief cook.”
“No,” said Betty, “I’m not chief cook—Marjorie is that. I’ll be the first assistant. I’ll prepare the vegetables for her, and be a—a peeler.”
“Hurrah for Betty the Peeler!” said Marjorie, appearing again in the front door. ”

“ Lennox beamed with delight at the anticipation of the frolics of these young girls in her somewhat lonely house.
So the good lady went to New York, and the girls trooped back to Hilarity Hall and told Aunt Molly all about it.
“It seems a bit like defeat,” said Hester, who always liked to carry out successfully anything she undertook.
“Oh, no,” said Aunt Molly. “You have no especial reason for staying in the cottage if a pleasanter plan offers itself. Take the goods the gods provide, and be thankful.”
“And I do hate to cook,” confessed Marguerite. “It’s all very well for Hester and Marjorie. ”

“ This is to the tune of the Burglar Song in ‘The Pirates.’ ”
POET’S SONG
When the interesting Poet’s not composing,
Or rolling round her fine poetic eye,
Oh, she loves to leave her tragic muse a-dozing,
And spend her time in making cake and pie.
But the other girls her aspirations smother,
And will not let her have a bit of fun;
Taking one consideration with another,
The Poet’s life is not a happy one.
Oh, she’d love to make a salad or a fritter,
Or even polish up the parlor grate ”

“ You’re to bring the forks, Nannie, and a pair of blankets and a table-cloth, and don’t forget your napkin-ring, and your jolly Vienna coffee-pot; and, Betty, take your chafing-dish—we’ll need two; Millicent, you’re responsible for the spoons, and Jessie, knives. Lazy Daisy will take a hammock, and I’ll take one, too; and I’ve packed lots of sofa-pillows, and I hope Helen will take her banjo. ”

“ Marjorie seized a long iron spoon, and, rapping on the table, said: “This meeting will please come to order. If you don’t we’ll never have any supper. Now don’t all talk at once, but if you’ve any sensible propositions to make, make them when you’re called on. Betty the Peeler, have you any suggestions to offer?”
But Betty was speechless. She held a great pan filled with water in her lap, in which the onions were bobbing up and down. She was peeling away vigorously, but her eyes were very red and the tears were rolling down her cheeks. ”

“ The Duchess’s apron fell on the Peeler, who, with the valuable assistance of the Stoker, smashed three plates and a cup. The Poet, not seeing the Matron, fell over her while crossing the kitchen, which made the Matron cross (the threshold) . The Duchess (very naturally) slipped off the buttery shelf, and the Wandering Minstrel and Scullery-maid, sneaking away from the glorious company of dish-washers, made night hideous with their wild howlings in the Grotto (banjo accompaniment) .”
“Now, Lamplighter, give it to me. As Matron I am the one to write up the account of our social functions” ”