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Bill well, she regarded him as a sort of delightful uncle who never told her of her faults, or recommended his own methods of performing the difficult task of getting through life successfully. When all was ready they moved off the landing towards the Mission clearing. Ailsa Mowbray was preparing supper. The scones were nearly ready in the oven, and she watched them with a skilful eye.
The kitchen was clean and ample, with a great open fireplace and wide stone hearth, and oven on one side, and rows of old-fashioned splint-bottomed chairs against the wall. A table scoured to snowy whiteness, and a little work-stand whereon lay the Bible, the "Missionary Herald" and the "Weekly Christian Mirror," before named, formed the principal furniture.
To this magic formula, which annually evoked from the great brick oven stuffed turkey, chicken pie, mince pie and plum pudding galore, the children listened with faces of mingled awe and delight, forgetful of their aching toes.
Among the lower classes, a common breakfast is a mixture of ghee and honey poured over crumbs of bread as they come quite hot from the oven. The Arabs, who are very fond of paste, never eat it without honey. The Arabs do not use oil for culinary purposes, except in frying fish, or with broken paste to be given to the poor.
There was a big stove, and on it a pot of soup was cooking, and when Jed Prenty opened the oven door a most delicious smell came out. "What's that?" asked Bert. "Baked beans," the cook answered. "They're 'most done, too! Want some?" "Oh, I do!" cried Freddie. "And I want a fried cake, too!" "So do I!" echoed Flossie. "Well, you shall have some," answered the good-natured cook.
Cover tightly and simmer in the oven for about an hour, turning the chicken occasionally; add a dozen olives and a tablespoon of chicken-fat, smoothed with one tablespoon of flour, and bring to a boil. Remove the chicken and add about a pint of boiled spaghetti to the sauce. Place the chicken on a platter, surround with the spaghetti, and serve.
As far as our eyes could reach, we saw in front of us a desert of glittering stone, heated like an oven by a burning sun, which seemed to hang for that very purpose right above the gorge. When we raised our eyes towards the crests, we stood dazzled and stupefied by what we saw.
Fill the dish half way up with a marmalade of apples; have ready the whites of four eggs beaten to a fine froth, and put them over the marmalade. Sift fine sugar over, and set it in the oven, which should be warm enough to give it a beautiful colour. RICE SOUP. Boil a pound of rice with a little cinnamon, in two quarts of water.
There was a remote twinkle in Lizzie's old eyes, but she gave the bowl over to Billy, and tactfully withdrew to the kitchen, where she sat down with her feet in the oven. "Drat Kent!" she said to herself. Billy moved over to sit on the edge of the couch, and Lydia began to sip the broth, spoonful by spoonful.
I ran double quick to it. Oh! wasn't it cold on the way! But as soon as I was in I could feel the great heat from the oven. It was so warm, and felt so good after coming from the icy air. Then water was taken from the large vessel and thrown over the stones with a big dipper. Steam rose at once; then more water was thrown, until the place was full of steam. I could not stand it.
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