"Delicious," said Patty, who was luxuriously nestling among her pillows while she ate her breakfast.
"Well, make the most of it, for you'll never get anything more fit to eat or drink in this happy home."
"What DO you mean?"
"Listen to my tale of woe. The chef and his wife have both left."
"Francois? And Marie! Why, whatever for?"
"Your English is a bit damaged, but I'll tell you. You see, Aunt Adelaide flew into one of her biggest tantrums, because her shirred egg was shirred too full, or her waffles didn't waff,—or something,—and she sent for Francois and gave him such a large piece of her mind that he picked up his Marie and walked off."
"Have they really GONE?"
"They really have. I've telephoned to the Intelligence Place, and I can't get a first-class cook down here at all. I shall have to send to the city for one, but, meantime—what to do! What to do!"
"H'm,—and you've guests for luncheon!"
"Yes, the whole Sayre tribe. The captain just CAN'T keep away from YOU! Patty, do you know you're a real belle? Everybody was crazy about you last night."