"'2072. One pound and a half of raisins; half a pound of currants; three quarters of a pound of breadcrumbs; half a pound of flour; three-quarters of a pound of beef suet; nine eggs; one wine glassful of brandy; half a pound of citron and orange peel; half a nutmeg; and a little ground ginger.' I wonder _how_ little ground ginger." "A teacupful would be enough, I think," Alice said; "we must not be extravagant." "We haven't got anything yet to be extravagant _with_," said Oswald, who had toothache that day. "What would you do with the things if you'd got them?" "You'd 'chop the suet as fine as possible'--I wonder how fine that is?" replied Dora and the book together--"'and mix it with the breadcrumbs and flour; add the currants washed and dried.'" "Not starched, then," said Alice. "'The citron and orange peel cut into thin slices'--I wonder what they call thin? Matilda's thin bread-and-butter is quite different from what I mean by it--'and the raisins stoned and divided.' How many heaps would you divide them into?" "Seven, I suppose," said Alice; "one for each person and one for the pot--I mean pudding." "'Mix it all well together with the grated nutmeg and ginger. Then stir in nine eggs well beaten, and the brandy'--we'll leave that out, I think--'and again mix it thoroughly together that every ingredient may be moistened; put it into a buttered mould, tie over tightly, and boil for six hours. Serve it ornamented with holly and brandy poured over it.'" "I should think holly and brandy poured over it would be simply beastly," said Dicky. "I expect the book knows. I daresay holly and water would do as well though. 'This pudding may be made a month before'--it's no use reading about that though, because we've only got four days to Christmas." "It's no use reading about any of it," said Oswald, with thoughtful repeatedness, "because we haven't got the things, and we haven't got the coin to get them." "We might get the tin somehow," said Dicky. "There must be lots of kind people who would subscribe to a Christmas pudding for poor children who hadn't any," Noel said. "Well, I'm going skating at Penn's," said Oswald. "It's no use thinking about puddings. We must put up with it plain." So he went, and Dicky went with him. When they returned to their home in the evening the fire had been lighted again in the nursery, and the others were just having tea. We toasted our bread-and-butter on the bare side, and it gets a little warm among the butter. This is called French toast. "I like English better, but it is more expensive," Alice said-- "Matilda is in a frightful rage about your putting those coals on the kitchen fire, Oswald. She says we shan't have enough to last over Christmas as it is. And Father gave her a talking to before he went about them--asked her if she ate them, she says--but I don't believe he did. Anyway, she's locked the coal-cellar door, and she's got the key in her pocket. I don't see how we can boil the pudding."