“I am glad to hear it, for I like you very much, and so does Rosenberg.”
“Then I hope you will not be offended if I request to have wax candles in my room, and—a—fresh napkin every day,” said Hamilton, with some embarrassment.
“This can easily be managed,” said Madame Rosenberg. “Neither Mr. Smith nor Captain Black ever asked for wax candles; but I suppose you have been brought up expensively. Now, don’t you think spermaceti candles would do just as well for a young man of your age—such candles as you may have seen in my silver candlesticks for company? Of course, I only mention this on your account.”
“You are very kind. I shall be quite satisfied with spermaceti—but I have still something to request.”
“I can save you the trouble,” said Madame Rosenberg, interrupting him. “You are not satisfied with your dinner, and wish to go to a table d’hôte.”
“By no means!” cried Hamilton, eagerly. “There you wrong me. I do not in the least care what I eat.”
“But, indeed,” said Madame Rosenberg, “I don’t think it would be a bad plan were you to do so, after all, for you see the girls must learn to cook, and things will be spoiled sometimes. It is quite enough to have Rosenberg discontented, without——”
“Oh, I promise never to be discontented,” said Hamilton, laughing good-humouredly. “You have no idea how indifferent I am on this subject.”
“I must say, Crescenz seems to have great taste for cookery,” observed Madame Rosenberg, complaisantly; “very great taste indeed; but I rather expect to find that Hildegarde has no talent that way. I suspect we shall often have burned cakes and spoiled pudding when her turn comes. But you were going to say something else, I believe.”
“I was going to say, that I have been looking at horses this morning which I feel greatly disposed to purchase, if I were sure of finding a stable near this, and a respectable groom.”