Holiday Stories for Young People | Page 5

to come in, and we could play tennis on our ground, and
perhaps have a game of croquet. Then, when it was too dark for that
sort of amusement, we could gather on the veranda or in the library,
and have games there--Dumb Crambo and Proverbs, until the time
came for the girls to go home.
First, however, the eating part of the entertainment had to be thought
of.
Aunt Hetty was in a wonderful good humor, and helped with all her
might, so that my preparations went on very successfully.
Grandmamma felt so much better that I asked her advice, and this was
the bill of fare which she proposed:
Ham Sandwiches. Cold Sliced Tongue. Quick Biscuits. Apple-Sauce.
Strawberries and Cream. Tapioca Blanc-Mange. Cup-Cake. Cookies.
Cocoa.
The ham, having been boiled till tender the afternoon before, was
chopped very fine, a tiny dash of mustard added to it, and then it was
spread smoothly between two pieces of the thinnest possible
bread-and-butter. Around each of the sandwiches, when finished, I tied
a very narrow blue ribbon. The effect was pretty.

The tongue was sliced evenly, and arranged on a plate with tender
leaves of lettuce around its edge.
The biscuits I made myself. Mother taught me how. First I took a quart
of flour, and dropped into it two teaspoonfuls of our favorite
baking-powder. This I sifted twice, so that the powder and flour were
thoroughly blended. Mother says that cakes and biscuits and all kinds
of pastry are nicer and lighter if the flour is sifted twice, or even three
times. I added now a tablespoonful of lard and a half teaspoonful of salt,
and mixed the biscuit with milk. The rule is to handle as little as
possible, and have the dough very soft. Roll into a mass an inch thick,
and cut the little cakes apart with a tin biscuit-cutter. They must be
baked in a very hot oven.
No little housekeeper need expect to have perfect biscuits the first time
she makes them. It is very much like playing the piano. One needs
practice. But after she has followed this receipt a half dozen times, she
will know exactly how much milk she will require for her dough, and
she will have no difficulty in handling the soft mass. A dust of flour
over the hands will prevent it from sticking to them.
Mother always insists that a good cook should get all her materials
together before she begins her work.
The way is to think in the first place of every ingredient and utensil
needed, then to set the sugar, flour, spice, salt, lard, butter, milk, eggs,
cream, molasses, flavoring, sieves, spoons, egg-beaters, cups, strainers,
rolling-pins, and pans, in a convenient spot, so that you do not have to
stop at some important step in the process, while you go to hunt for a
necessary thing which has disappeared or been forgotten.
Mother has often told me of a funny time she had when she was quite a
young housekeeper, afflicted with a borrowing neighbor. This lady
seldom had anything of her own at hand when it was wanted, so she
depended upon the obliging disposition of her friends.
One day my mother put on her large housekeeping apron and stepped
across the yard to her outdoor kitchen. The kitchens in Kentucky were

never a part of the house, but always at a little distance from it, in a
separate building.
"Aunt Phyllis," said my mother to the cook, who was browning coffee
grains in a skillet over the fire, "I thought I told you that I was coming
here to make pound cake and cream pies this morning. Why is nothing
ready?"
"La, me, Miss Emmeline!" replied Aunt Phyllis. "Miss 'Tilda Jenkins
done carried off every pie pan and rolling-pin and pastry-board, and
borrowed all de eggs and cream fo' herself. Her bakin' isn't mo'n
begun."
This was a high-handed proceeding, but nothing could be done in the
case. It was Mrs. Jenkins' habit, and mother had always been so
amiable about it that the servants, who were easygoing, never troubled
themselves to ask the mistress, but lent the inconvenient borrower
whatever she desired.
Sometimes just as we were going to church, I was too little at the time
to remember, mother said that a small black boy with very white teeth
and a very woolly head, would pop up at her chamber door, exclaiming,
"Howdy, Miss Emmeline. Miss 'Tilda done sent me to borrow yo'
Prayer-book. She goin' to church to-day herself."
Or, of a summer evening, her maid would appear with a modest request
for Miss Emmeline's lace shawl and red satin fan; Miss 'Tilda wanted
to make a call and had nothing to wear.
All this, I think, made mother perfectly set