Other formats

    TEI XML file   ePub eBook file  

Connect

    mail icontwitter iconBlogspot iconrss icon

Uncles Three

Chapter XVIII — Kathie passes in Cakes

page 217

Chapter XVIII
Kathie passes in Cakes

Jan's complexion was gradually growing normal again. The ferocious frown had disappeared; the ornamental scrolls were a memory. Only the lines about her lips still lent her a slightly mirthful expression, and these would soon be gone. Pipi tried to discourage unnecessary ablutions on Jan's part. She said that every time Jan washed her face a piece of her tattooing disappeared, and our holidays were shortened by a day.

Mr Corfan's decorations had faded too, and he was nearly ready to face the penguins when he went south. Only the design on his left cheek was now in evidence. Kathie whispered to me that she would quite miss it when it went. She said it hypnotized her; she felt she would have hysterics every time she looked at it.

Kathie was very busy these days. She had passed in poultry and soups; she had obtained first-class honours in pastry, and second-class in scones; she had graduated in bread, and scraped through in jams. There remained only the ordeal of cakes, and Kathie spent the last page 218week at Kamahi in the kitchen concocting a very special Madeira.

She had decided on a Madeira for the final effort, and after two days' work achieved one that was really a triumph. Pipi, Jock, and I assisted at the ceremony, though we were weary of Kathie's Madeira cakes; we had hidden away so many of her failures in this particular line. Pipi said she was chock-full of Madeira cake. This one, however, was so puffy and yellow and altogether delightful that even Jan was forced to express her approval. Rob was brought to view its perfections, and Uncle Dan could hardly find words to express his admiration.

"It's a corker," he said, enthusiastically. "That will do the trick, Kathie."

It did. Poor Uncle Dan!

Kathie decided to ice the Madeira; it seemed a pity to hide its perfection, but the pink and white would be effective. Jan graciously lent a hand here, and decorated the smooth white top with scriggles and scrolls as artistic as those with which she had ornamented her own face.

"It looks splendid," Kathie said, regarding the finished effort with awe. "You're a dear, Jan. You've given it the final touch."

Pipi and I gathered trails of morning glory— delicate white flowers like fairy bells—and placed them in a slender silver vase. Then we crowned page 219the cake with the bouquet and put it aside for afternoon tea.

That cake needed living up to, so that afternoon Kathie donned her prettiest frock, a muslin as blue as her eyes. Jan hunted out a fresh hairribbon, and took two days off our holidays scrubbing at her smile; Pipi wore her angel look, and Jock washed his knees twice. Since it was a special occasion we all trooped in to afternoon tea, which was set on the table in the dining-room, the cake occupying the place of honour in the centre. Kathie looked so pretty, her eyes, shining and her face flushed. I saw the uncles glance at her, and then look at each other and smile.

"First-rate effort," Uncle John said, examining the cake with a professional air. "No engagement rings hidden away this time, Kathie?"

"Not one," Kathie answered, smiling happily.

"Passed with flying colours," pronounced Uncle Stephen. "Fruit all at the bottom, Kathie?"

"It's a Madeira cake, Uncle Stephen," Kathie answered patiently.

Uncle Dan was the first to sample the effort. Kathie had gone into the kitchen to replenish the sugar-bowl.

"I know where the sugar-lumps are. You don't," she said to Uncle Dan. "Cut me a piece too, Dan."

"It's a jolly good cake," Uncle said, taking one page 220bite with caution, and another with appreciation. I like plenty of icing. These little blobs are quite artistic."

"I——" began Jan, modestly, but just at that moment Kathie came into the room, and after one look at her Uncle put down his slice and ceased to take any interest in it. Kathie's eyes were wild; she looked at us, and we stared back at her. "I hope you don't mind," she said, in a curious, level voice, "but I've poisoned you all. It's a very deadly poison," she added, still in the same queer tone. "Oxalic acid. I put it in the cake." Uncle Dan eyed his half-eaten slice with horror and turned green. Kathie looked at him. I don't believe she would even have noticed if Jan, Jock, Pipi, and I had pied in a bunch.

"You have eaten it," she cried, and her voice rose to a wail. "Don't say you have eaten it, Dan?"

"Only about half a slice. I thought it was a jolly good cake."

"Do you mean to tell me, Katrine, that you were—were——" Uncle John struggled for words—"that you were mad enough to bake oxalic acid in a cake? God bless my soul! This is worse than the engagement ring."

Kathie flung herself on top of Uncle Dan.

"It won't hurt him. It won't hurt him," she moaned.

page 221

"Of course not. It's rather an improvement than otherwise. Don't worry, Kathie," Uncle Dan said, in a nice, reassuring voice, but he still looked green, and when Jan suggested, quite helpfully, that she should tickle his throat with a feather he turned and roared at us like a bull.

"Here! Get out, you kids! Get out!"

We got. We went as quickly as we could. Even Jan hadn't the courage to refuse; indeed, Uncle looked so fierce that Pipi and I stuck together in the door in our effort to get clear. Afterward, when the excitement was over, Jan said she was sorry to see that Uncle had so little control over his temper. She said it boded ill for the future, and she should certainly speak to him and warn Kathie about it. But she didn't; she wasn't as foolhardy as that.

Feeling we might be needed, we lingered outside, wondering what would happen next. Kathie was the next. The door opened, and she shot out suddenly, dropped into a chair, and sat in a limp, dejected heap.

"How is he? Is he unpoisoned?" Jock asked, anxiously.

"Is he sick?" Pipi inquired, interestedly.

Kathie looked up. Her face was chalky white, and her eyes big and pathetic. I couldn't help feeling sorry, terribly sorry, for her, even if she page 222had put oxalic acid into a cake, and poisoned Uncle Dan.

"It was such a lovely cake," she said, in a slow, dreamy sort of way, which was quite bloodcurdling. "It should have been all right. We were—going to be married—at Easter. It looked lovely."

"It tasted all right," said Pipi, briskly. "Me and Jock licked the bowl."

Uncle John was passing through the hall, and he stopped and looked at Pipi as if paralysed, then a slow relief dawned on his face. He put a hand on the mixed-up heap which was Kathie, and pulled her, not ungently, to her feet.

"Come with me, girl," he said. "Show me the stuff you used."

We went in a procession to the kitchen—Uncle John and Kathie leading, and the victim in the care of Uncle Stephen, bringing up the rear. Uncle Dan did not appear much the worse for the oxalic acid—he apparently thrived on it—but he seemed relieved when he found there was a doubt whether it really had been used in the cake after all.

"Jock and Pipi licked the bowl. That was four hours ago," Uncle John said, with something between a gasp and a groan, and with the suspicion of a laugh in his voice. "They don't seem much worse for it."

page 223

"It was a lovely cake, and Kathie left lots in the bowl. She always does, 'cause she can't be bothered to scrape it out," Pipi said, and Uncle Stephen laughed.

Mrs McPherson was in the kitchen, and when the vanguard entered she opened her eyes, but when the rear appeared they nearly popped out of her head. She looked at Kathie, and she looked at Uncle Dan. She fixed Jan with a glare, and finally she concentrated on Jock, Pipi, and me.

"And what have those children been doing now, sir?" she asked, in just the tone Job must have used when the last messenger arrived with news of the latest catastrophe.

Kathie did not speak; she flew to the table; she crossed to the dresser; she explored the cupboards.

"It's the oxalic acid," she cried. "I—was cleaning my hat—my straw hat—in here this morning, and I had the acid in a baking-powder tin, and I forgot to put it away, and then I put it in the cake, and Dan's eaten it, and I don't know what to do."

Kathie finished with a kind of a wail, and fell into Uncle John's arms. Uncle Dan's voice came reassuringly.

"It's all right, Kathie. Don't worry about me."

page 224

One look Mrs McPherson gave us. She stalked to the dresser—she really did stalk—and brought down a tin from a high shelf, and showed it to Kathie.

"Is this the stuff you're meaning?" she asked. "Y-yes," quivered Kathie, shrinking. "I put it away," said the housekeeper, slowly and distinctly and with terrible emphasis, "directly you had finished. I wasn't going to have poison lying about my kitchen. It's been on the shelf ever since. Is this what you used?"

She produced another tin, similar in size and shape. Kathie eyed it hopefully.

"It looks the same," she said.

"It is. I put it away after you had finished cooking, when you went to dress, leaving everything scattered about the kitchen as usual, in a mess that takes the girls all the morning to clear away. And you thought you had put acid into the cake? How did you suppose," asked Mrs McPherson, with calm, "a cake was going to rise with only oxalic acid to lighten it?"

"Oh! I never thought at all. I—oh! oh! oh! Thank you, Mrs McPherson. Thank you!"

Kathie flung herself on top of a surprised and not altogether unsympathetic Mrs McPherson. Mrs McPherson didn't dislike it either; indeed, I think she considered it only her due. She had saved Uncle Dan.

page 225

"Then you put it away. I am much obliged to you, Mrs McPherson. I think we may now consider the cooking lessons at an end," Uncle John said. "Come on, Kathie, we've to eat that cake, and see if it is as good as it looks—in spite of its reputation," Uncle added with a smile.

But I noticed he declined a slice; we all did. Even Uncle Dan left his piece on the side of his plate, and did not venture another bite. He had had a warning; he would not be so ready to sample Kathie's cooking again.

"It shows," Rob said, in a learned way, which I much admired, "the effect of suggestion. Now Dan——"

But this was too much for Uncle. Poor old Uncle Dan. It had been a trying quarter of an hour, but after all Kathie was to blame, and not Jan, Jock, Pipi, and I. We were not responsible for her cakes, and, as Rob said, it was not our fault that she had nearly cooked Uncle Dan into the Better Land. He was not the only sufferer either. Jock had been all but choked, and the ring which was nearly the cause of a tragedy had been given to Kathie by Uncle Dan himself.

There was nothing to do but to leave them alone, so after tea we strolled outside and lay on the grass reviewing the exciting afternoon. The ringing of the dinner-bell brought us to our page 226feet. Jan—she dined with the uncles still, and never let us forget it—hurried inside.

"I'm not dressed or anything," she said. "Move out of the way, Jock. Ngaire, where's my blue hair-ribbon? Pipi, you've got my comb. Bags I the bathroom first."

She dashed away, and we heard the water splashing. Pipi turned to me tragically.

"She's washin' her face," she said.