A gentle snore from Alan greeted the end of the story. He had rolled over on his face, and was apparently sound asleep.
"There!" said Polly, with an accent of relief. "I'm glad we aren't the only know-nothings in the world, Molly."
"The question is, how are we going to know something," said
Katharine thoughtfully.
"Let's turn our reading club into a cooking club," suggested
Jessie; "that is, if Mrs. Adams is willing."
"Yes, and poison ourselves, or else die of indigestion," interrupted Alan, waking abruptly to make this remark.
"Oh, you go to sleep again!" said Polly, rolling a hassock at him.
But Alan appropriated the weapon, and at once put it to use as a pillow, while his sister said reflectively,—
"I wish we could do something of the kind. I don't know as we can; but I should so like to know how to do enough cooking so that Polly and I won't starve to death, next time we keep house."
While they were talking, Mrs. Adams had been hastily thinking over the possibility of giving the girls a few lessons in plain cooking. Such a plan would take some of her time, and involve much trouble and waste, besides, as Alan had suggested, imperilling the digestions of the family. But, on the other hand, Mrs. Adams had always felt that any woman, no matter how many servants she might keep, should have enough experience as a cook to direct the servants intelligently, and to be able to provide food for her family, if the hour of need should ever come. It was high time that Polly should be gaining a little of this experience, so why not extend her lessons to include all the girls? It would probably be the only chance that Florence and the Shepards would ever have. She resolved to try the experiment, for a time at least.
"What's the use of it, anyway?" Florence was saying. "A servant always does the cooking."