“Yes, Dutch, madam,” she said, addressing Mrs. Lennox; “the cook’s assistant is Dutch, and her name is Marjorie.”
“So it is,” said Mrs. Lennox, calmly. “I remember now. But really, dear Lady Pendered, in America one troubles one’s self so little with these matters. I rarely see my kitchen servants, and almost never have occasion to call them by name.”
“Wonderful system!” said Lady Pendered, appalled at this state of culinary perfection. “As a mere gratification of my curiosity, may I see your English cook? I would be glad to interview one who can make such a pudding as this.”
“Certainly,” said Mrs. Lennox, though not without some misgivings. “Jessie, summon Hester to the dining-room.”
“Yes, madam,” said Jessie, and she flew into the kitchen.
“Oh, Hester, Lady Pendered wants to interview you; you’re to come in at once. And she’ll nearly kill you—she’s so funny, I mean; but do be careful, Hester, and don’t laugh or anything.”
“Trust me,” said Hester, smoothing out her apron and straightening her cap.
“Am I sent for?” asked Marjorie. “I don’t care; I’m going anyway. I won’t be kept out of the fun.”
Jessie returned to the dining-room, followed by Hester. After hesitating a moment, Marjorie followed, and stood modestly behind her chief. These tidy and well-favored cooks seemed to rouse Lady Pendered’s ire.
“Well!” she exclaimed. “I never saw anything like it. Are you an English girl? Where are you from?”