“Oh, sardines,”—Elizabeth declared for these.
“I might make a sardine omelette; that wouldn’t be bad, and we can open a can of soup to have first. Do you like orange marmalade? I know there is a lot of that; bread and butter. Milk? There should be milk. Oh yes, here it is. I don’t believe there is much else, except crackers and cheese. Will that be enough?”
“It will be loads,” Elizabeth assured him in a pleased voice. This was a great variety and the novelty of it all was so delightful. The potatoes were put in the hot embers as soon as there were any for them and then there was a merry time over setting the table. Dishes of various sizes, shapes and patterns were gathered together, paper napkins were laid, the jar of daffodils set in the middle of the rather rickety table and they stood off to admire the effect.
“I call that a very stylish set-out,” declared Mr. Kemp. “Take this fork, Elfie, and prod those potatoes while I get to work with the other things. Where in the world did I put that can-opener? See if you can find it, Elfie, while I do something else.”
Elizabeth hunted around and at last found the can-opener had been used to prop open one of the windows. “What a negligible little child you are, Mr. Titian,” she said, bringing it to him. They met on common ground when it came to frolics like this.
“So I am, Elfie. I remember now, that I couldn’t find a stick for that foolish window. I am going to put some catches on after awhile, but Rome wasn’t built in a day. What about those potatoes?”
“They are pretty hard yet.”
“They are? Mean things; and I am getting hungrier every minute. We might forego the potatoes and eat them later. What do you say? I don’t believe we can wait for the slow things. Bully! Here is a can of peas, just the things to go with the omelette. Have you any idea what you do with them, Elfie? Do they have to be cooked or anything?”
“I have seen ’Lectra pour cold water over them,” replied Elizabeth doubtfully. “She puts them in a colander and does that, I know; I don’t remember whether she cooks them or not.”
Mr. Kemp carefully pierced a pea with a fork. “They appear quite soft,” he announced. “I think if we just warm them up it will do. Dear me, I haven’t a colander. I will just wash them in a pan and scoop them up with a spoon; I reckon that will do.”