“I could do that,” Elizabeth offered.
“So you can. I think they will get hot while I am making the omelette. But perhaps we’d better eat the soup first because it will not do to let the omelette stand, besides there will not be room enough on the stove for more than two things.”
They decided to do this and when the soup was hot they carried it in, one eating from a soup plate and the other from a bowl, and making very merry over it.
“I smell something burning,” cried Elizabeth, as she was taking her last spoonful of soup.
“The peas!” cried Mr. Kemp. “I didn’t put any water on them and probably they are stuck fast.” He rushed out to the little cubby which he called the kitchenette and, sure enough, the peas had stuck fast. “I don’t suppose they are any good,” said Mr. Kemp, looking at them ruefully. “They are burnt black at the bottom.”
“Perhaps they won’t be so bad on top, if you take them off carefully.”
Mr. Kemp followed her suggestion, but after gingerly removing the top layer and tasting it, he declared that the taste went all the way through. “So we’ll have to give them up as a bad job,” he declared. “Well, at least we shall have the omelette. I will make it big enough to make up for the peas, only I had set my heart on those peas. I thought how lovely it would be to make a rim of them around the omelette, quite Frenchy, and the yellow and green would have matched the daffodils so nicely.”
“Oh, never mind, we shall do very well. I don’t mind if you don’t.”
While Mr. Kemp was preparing the omelette, Elizabeth thought she might try the potatoes again, and this time she found that they were really done. She rushed to the kitchenette to announce her discovery. “They are done!” she exclaimed.
“What? Who?” cried Mr. Kemp. “Why do you come upon me in that sudden way, Elfie? I nearly dropped the pan—and then there would be trouble in the camp.”