the west window. When I stopped to see what effect my words had had she just laughed—a quiet pleased laugh—and mixed up with it I heard her say, "Why, Chenery is the most uncommon man I ever met." And she blushed like eighteen.
I went right on.
"We don't call him Chenery, either," I said. "We cut off all such fringes. He's plain Tom to us. I know how the plain way we live must impress you. I know you've been used to French maids, and push-a-button for everything you want. I'm sorry for the shock you must have got coming here. But you might as well wake up to the truth. You see what a mess the house is in, and how Nellie won't call us Mister and Miss, and how if she is on the third floor and she wants me she just yells. And," I said, pointing out of the window, "there goes Delia now. And there isn't a sign of a cook left in the house."
Elise sat up straight.
"Is she leaving without notice?" she exclaimed.
"Naturally," I laughed.
"How dreadfully unkind of her!"
"That's what I think, but Delia doesn't care if I do."
"Haven't you some one to help you out? What will you do?" Elise was really excited.
"Do?" I replied grimly. "Oh, I'll duff in and cook myself, I suppose."
Elise put down her pen.
"I can make delicious desserts," she said. "Can't you telephone to the family not to come home this noon? We can be ready for them by to-night. I
