“You?” Nettie looked amazed.
“Of course. Did you never hear of a man cook? I’ve served my apprenticeship, I can assure you. I’ll make the coffee, too, if you have any.”
“Oh, there is some already ground, in the basket mother sent,” Edna assured him. “We don’t drink it, but we can have cambric tea.”
“All right, you go along and set the table, and I’ll do the rest.”
Nettie was rather glad to have the responsibility taken off her hands in this summary manner, though she said to Edna, “Do you think it is polite to let him do it all?”
“Why, certainly,” replied Edna. “He does those things at home for his mother sometimes, for he has no sisters, and the boys have to pitch in and help when the servant goes out. He has told me all about it. And as for its being polite, I remember mother said it was always more polite to let your company do the thing which made them comfortable than to insist upon doing something for them that would make them uncomfortable.”
Nettie considered this for some time before she quite took in the sense of it. She was a thin, demure little girl, not at all pretty, but with a kind face, big blue eyes and sandy hair. She was dressed very plainly, but her clothes were neat and simply made. She was not the kind of child Edna might have expected to find in such a little house.
The muffins turned out a great success, and Ben said his coffee just suited him. “I never saw fresher eggs than your hens lay,” he said, looking at Nettie with a serious face.
“Of course, they are fresh,” she returned, “when they were only laid yesterday.”
“That’s what I said,” returned Ben, with gravity.