"Yes, Archie," said Letitia demurely, "you think you should say it. But please don't think I shall, for I assure you that I shan't. I suppose that we must discharge her. She can't do anything and she doesn't want to learn. I don't blame her. She can always get the wages she asks, by doing nothing. You would pursue a similar policy, Archie, if it were possible. Everybody would. But all other laborers must know how to labor."
I was glad to hear Letitia echoing my sentiments. She was quite unconsciously plagiarizing. Once again, she took up the cook-book. The sound of merrymaking in the kitchen drifted in upon us. From what we could gather, Gerda seemed to be "dressing up" for the delectation of her guests. Shrieks of laughter and clapping of hands made us wince. My nerves were on edge. Had any one at that moment dared to suggest that there was even a suspicion of humor in these proceedings, I should have slain him without compunction. Letitia was less irate and tried to comfort me.
"You've no idea what hundreds of ways there are of cooking eggs, Archie," she said. "Do listen to me, dear. I'm trying so hard to be domesticated, and I do so want to please you. Don't let cook come between us. Here's a recipe for eggs à la reine that reads most charmingly. Are you listening, Archie?"
Letitia came over to me, and kissed me, and smoothed my hair, and apologized, and asked me to help her with her cook-book—and I was pacified. At another time, I should not have allowed her to apologize. But as there were eight obstreperous women in our kitchen and Letitia didn't object—well, I thought the apology was not out of place.
"How to make eggs à la reine," read Letitia lightly. "You prepare twelve eggs as for the above."
"What's 'as for the above'?" I asked.
"Let me see. Ah, yes. 'As for the above' means as for eggs à la Meyerbeer. To make eggs à la reine, you prepare twelve eggs as though for eggs 'à la Meyerbeer.' It's simple."
"But we don't know how to make eggs 'à la Meyerbeer'," I protested, thinking of the pons asinorum in Euclid that had caused me bitter anguish.
"To make eggs 'à la Meyerbeer'," read Letitia, "you butter a silver dish, and break into it twelve fresh eggs—"