There were built-up
fabrics, called _Charlottes_, caky externally, pulpy within; there were
also _marangs_, and likewise custards,--some of the indolent-fluid
sort, others firm, in which every stroke of the teaspoon left a smooth,
conchoidal surface like the fracture of chalcedony, with here and there
a little eye like what one sees in cheeses. Nor was that most wonderful
object of domestic art called _trifle_ wanting, with its charming
confusion of cream and cake and almonds and jam and jelly and wine and
cinnamon and froth; nor yet the marvellous _floating-island_,--name
suggestive of all that is romantic in the imaginations of youthful
palates.
"It must have cost you a sight of work, to say nothin' of money, to get
all this beautiful confectionery made for the party," said Mrs. Crane
to Mrs. Sprowle.
"Well, it cost some consid'able labor, no doubt," said Mrs. Sprowle.
"Matilda and our girls and I made 'most all the cake with our own
hands, and we all feel some tired; but if folks get what suits 'em, we
don't begrudge the time nor the work. But I do feel thirsty," said the
poor lady, "and I think a glass of srub would do my throat good; it's
dreadful dry.
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