THE SURPRISE OMELETTE

Evening Star, Issue 21742, 9 June 1934, Page 5

THE SURPRISE OMELETTE

A GOOD-HIGH! TALE it looked so easy at the exhibition. 'l'he demonstrator had whisked the egg to a beautiful creajny, froth; the mixture had gone into a very ordinary frying pan ; then hey . presto! In next to no time a golden omelette had formed, fit for any king. . c Beryl had stood right in front of the crowd of onlookers; with her mother she had watched the whole demonstration from beginning to end. So straightforward did the cookery seem and so delicious the. result that she had made up her mind that, when the chance came, she, too, would make sue ban omelette as a surprise for her mother. , Now she had had the chance the bouse to herself, the kitchen to herself, an egg from .the larder, the whisk, the pan, the knob of butter, and all the time she needed. , Beryl looked .sorrowfully at the sad, yellow, leathery lump that was her surprise omelette. True, it was a first attempt; hut she had copied that exhibition dispay so faithfully, sometimes even muttering to herself the demonstrator’s patter as the mixture was (prepared. And yet it had come to this. And Beryl idly folded her omelette over again, but the'leathery mass immediately sprang back. She tidied up quickly before her parents returned, and was about to throw the omelette into the lire when her more economical nature prevailed; she went into the garden and carefully laid it on the bird tray. The family’ were sitting at tea when they were startled by pandemonium outside. . Beryl’s father hurried to the window. “The birds have gone mad! he announced. : Beryl and her mother ran to see the excitement. Angry’ starlings were fighting on the bird' tray; a host of sparrows chattered greedily around and took advantage of the starlings squabbles to thieve bits of food; tits joined in the scramble; and even two shy chaffinches. “ What’s the to-do?” asked Beryls father. • • Beryl was about to explain when her mother did it for her. I’ll tell you, she said. “ I made an omelette yesterday, just as we saw at the exhibition—you remember, Beryl ? But mine didn t quite turn out right. It was like rubber. So 1 gave it to the birds. I suppose they’ve only just had courage to start on it. Anyway, what they’re eating looks like it.” “ It’s not,” said Beryl quietly, 1 it s mine. I’ve just made it—like leather. I put it out there.” “ AVas mine there when yon put your’s there?” asked her mother anxiously. . “ No, - ’ said Beryl. “ Ah, well, I’m glad mine was as nice as yours,” was the cheerful answer. “ An omelette a day ” “ Keeps the birds on the tray’, finished Beryl.