Part 8 (1/2)

”Dining-room breakfast: Hot scones, baked m.u.f.fins, eggs and bacon, deviled kidneys, scrambled eggs, a dish of kippered herrings, marmalade, honey, jam, tea and coffee. Oh, and chocolate for Firefly.”

”My word, Miss,” again exclaimed Maggie. ”It's seven o'clock now, and the Doctor likes his breakfast sharp on the table at eight. If we has to get all this ready in an hour we had better fly round and lose no more time. I'll see to the 'all, bless your kind 'eart, Miss Polly, but we'd better get on with the dining-room breakfast, or there'll be nothing ready in anything like time. Will you mix up the cakes, Miss Polly, while I sees to the kidneys, and to the bacon and eggs, and the scrambled eggs, and the kippers. My word, but there'll be a power more sent up than can be eaten. But whatever goes wrong we should have the cakes in the oven, Miss Polly.”

Polly did not altogether approve of Maggie's tone, but time did press; the kitchen clock already pointed to five minutes past seven; it was much easier to write out a programme upstairs at one's leisure in the pleasant morning-room than to carry it out in a hurry, in the hot kitchen, particularly when one's own knowledge was entirely theoretical, not practical. Yes, the kitchen was very hot, and time never seemed to fly so fast.

”First of all, open the window, Maggie; it is wrong to have rooms so hot as this,” said the young housekeeper, putting on her most authoritative air.

”No, Miss, that I mustn't,” said Maggie, firmly. ”You'd cool down the oven in less than five minutes. Now, shall I fetch you the flour and things from the store-room, Miss? Why, dear me, your cheeks has peonyed up wonderful. You're new to it yet, Miss, but you'll soon take it quiet-like. Cold bacon is a very nice breakfast for the 'all, Miss, and cooking b.u.t.ter's all that servants is expected to eat of. Now shall I fetch you the flour and the roller, and the milk, Miss Polly?”

”Yes, get them,” said Polly. She felt decidedly annoyed and cross. ”I wish you would not talk so much, Maggie,” she said, ”go and fetch the materials for the hot cakes.”

”But I don't know yet what I'm to get, Miss. Is it a dripping cake, or is it a cream cake, or is it a b.u.t.ter-and-egg cake? I'll bring you things according, Miss Polly, if you'll be so good as to instruct me.”

”Oh dear, oh dear,” said Polly, ”you make my head go round, when you mention so many kinds of cake, Maggie. I really thought you knew something of cooking. I just want _hot cakes_. I don't care what kind they are; oh, I suppose we had better have the richest to-day. Get the material for the b.u.t.ter-and-egg cake, Maggie, and do be quick.”

Thus admonished, Maggie did move off with a dubious look on her face in the direction of the store-room.

”She don't know nothing, poor dear,” she said to herself; ”she aims high--she's eat up with ambition, but she don't know nothing. It's lucky we in the 'all is to have the cold bacon. _I_ don't know how to make a b.u.t.ter-and-egg hot cake--oh, my word, a fine scolding Mrs. Power will give us when she comes back.”

Here Maggie approached the store-room door. Then she uttered a loud and piercing exclamation and flew back to Polly.

”She's gone and done us, Miss Polly,” she exclaimed. ”She's gone and done us! Cook's off, and the key of the store-room in her pocket.

There's nothing for breakfast, Miss Polly--no eggs, no b.u.t.ter, no marmalade, no sugar, no nothing.”

Poor Polly's rosy, little face turned white.

”It can't be true,” she said. And she flew down the pa.s.sage to the store-room herself. Alas! only to peep through the key-hole, for the inhospitable door was firmly locked, and nowhere could the key be discovered.

CHAPTER XI.

A--WAS AN APPLE PIE.

The first day of Polly's housekeeping was long remembered in the household. In the first place, the breakfast, though fairly abundant, was plain. A large piece of cold bacon graced one end of the board, a brown loaf stood on a trencher in the center, and when Helen took her place opposite the tea-tray she found herself provided with plenty of milk and sugar, certainly, and a large tea-pot of strong tea, but the sugar was brown. No b.u.t.ter, no marmalade, no jams, no hot cakes, graced the board. The children spoke of the fare as severe, and the Doctor's dark brown eyes twinkled as he helped his family to abundant slices of cold bacon.

”Not a word,” he said, in a loud aside to his boys and girls. ”I did not think it was in Polly to be so sensible. Why, we shall get through indigestion week quite comfortably, if she provides us with plain, wholesome fare like this.”

Polly took her own place at the table rather late. Her cheeks were still peonyed, as Maggie expressed it, her eyes were downcast, her spirits were decidedly low, and she had a very small appet.i.te.

After breakfast she beat a hasty retreat, and presently the boys rushed in in great excitement, to announce to Helen and Katie the interesting fact that Polly was walking across the fields accompanied by Maggie, each of them laden with a large market-basket.

”They are almost running, both of them,” exclaimed Bunny, ”and pretty Poll is awful cross, for when we wanted to go with her she just turned round and said we'd have a worse dinner than breakfast if we didn't leave her alone.”

”We ran away quickly enough after that,” continued Bob, ”for we didn't want no more cold-bacon and no-b.u.t.ter meals. We had a nasty breakfast to-day, hadn't we, Nell? And Poll is a bad housekeeper, isn't she?”

”Oh, leave her alone, do,” said Helen. ”She is trying her very best. Run out and play, boys, and don't worry about the meals.”

The two boys, known in the family as ”the scamps,” quickly took their departure, and Katie began to talk in her most grown-up manner to Helen.

Katie was a demure little damsel, she was fond of using long words, and thought no one in the world like Helen, whom she copied in all particulars.