"It must be the ice-cream the soldiers told about, for it's powerful
cold, besides bein' powerful good."
"That's so," was the reply; "but 'pears to me I didn't hear the men say
nothin' about there bein' gravy poured on theirn."
Some of the guests were becoming full to their extreme capacity,--a
condition which stimulates geniality in some natures, ugliness in
others. They had come to criticise--to learn of their hostess's
extravagance. They had remained in the parlor only long enough to be
entirely overcome by its magnificence and to exchange whispered remarks
about the shameful waste of money wrung from the hard-working farmers.
The dinner had been good beyond their wildest expectations; not the
best Fourth of July picnic refreshments, or even the memorable dinner
given by Squire Burress, the richest farmer in the county, when his
daughter was married, compared with it. What was so good must also
have been very expensive. Criticism must begin with something, and the
blanc-mange seemed a proper subject to one woman, who was reputed to
be very religious. So she groaned:--
"This--whatever it is--is so awful good that it must ha' been sinful
costly--actually sinful."
"Yes, indeed," sighed another. "One might say, a wicked waste o' money."
"Blanc-mange?--costly?" Grace said, curbing an indignant impulse; "why,
'tis nothing but corn-starch, milk, sugar, and a little flavoring. I
wonder what dessert dish could be cheaper!"
"You don't say!" exclaimed a woman less malevolent or more practical
than the others. "Now, I just ain't a-goin' to give you no peace till
you give me the receipt for it."
"I'll give it, with pleasure; or better still, you shall have a package
of the corn-starch,--'tis worth only a few cents,--with full directions
on the label. I might possibly forget some part of them, you know."
"Me too," said several women as one, and criticism was temporarily
abated. Before a new excuse for reviving it could be found, the
ice-cream--the real article, and without gravy, of course--made its
appearance. It was consumed in silence, in as much haste as possible
with anything so cold, and also with evident enjoyment. Then the
opponent of sinful extravagance remarked:--
"It's awful good--too good! It 'pears wicked to enjoy any earthly thing
so much. Besides, you needn't tell me that _it_ ain't awful costly,
'cause I shan't believe it."
"If my word is of so doubtful quality," said Grace, with rising color,
"perhaps Mrs. Taggess, with whom you're better acquainted, will inform
you."
"'Tis nothing but milk, cream, and sugar," said Mrs. Taggess, who
had borrowed Grace's freezer and experimented with it, "and most of
you know very well that you've so much milk that you feed some of it
to your pigs. The cream in what all of you have eaten would make,
perhaps, a single pound of butter, which you would be glad to sell for
fifteen cents. The sugar cost not more than five or six cents, and the
flavoring, to any one with raspberries in their own garden, would have
cost nothing."