^ The ^Afternoon of the Year $£ 



and with slender ivory sticks thrust into them ? In those 

 days I never thought of asking, for I only wanted to play 

 with these smooth lovely little toys. 



And there was a store-cupboard in the garden-room, 

 which was an overflow from the store-room proper. That 

 was a store-cupboard ! Apart from the home-candied 

 rose-petals, violets, carnation-petals, cowslips, rosemary 

 and borage flowers, the damson cheeses and so forth, to 

 be found in every well-regulated store-room in those 

 days, that cupboard contained triumphs of the culinary 

 art not to be bought nowadays. Great-aunt Lancilla 

 candied oranges whole, and when done they were like 

 semi-transparent globes of orange gold. Before being 

 candied a tiny hole was made in the place where the stalk 

 was and every bit of the pulp was scraped out with a salt- 

 spoon, a slow and delicate process. Then the oranges 

 were steeped in a strong salt and water pickle for a week, 

 then soaked in fresh water for two or three days, the 

 water being changed every day. The oranges were then 

 boiled in syrup till they cleared. (This recipe has been 

 used for at least six generations in our family.) In candle- 

 light, or indeed any artificial light, these candied oranges 

 look exquisite. 



And do you know whortleberry jam and jelly ? Whortle- 

 berries have many different names in Britain. Scotch 

 folk call them blaeberries, and in Surrey we call them 

 * hurts.' They are, I fancy, the only fruit one cannot 

 buy in London, and so far as I know whortleberry jelly 

 and jam are also not to be bought. I suppose the process 

 of picking the tiny berries being so slow, added to the 

 cost of transit, and the fact that they travel badly account 

 for this. But is there a more delicate, delicious fruit, 



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