“Integral calculus is a treat compared to this,” he said to himself as he reviewed the problem. “I hope they have plenty of parsley in the house. That nest may need a little protecting foliage. I don't see how I can make any kind of proper asylum for those homeless, wandering eggs out of that mess.” So saying, he left the library to call upon Ethel at her home and complete his disguise.
XI
Mrs. Kent was a deal puzzled by the bearing and accoutrements of her substitute cook. Eliza Thick appeared on the premises about seven o'clock, and with the aid of the housemaid breakfast went through fairly smoothly. It was Kathleen's query about the coffee that elicited the truth. Mary, with nervous gigglings, announced to her mistress that Ethel was ill and had sent a substitute. The coincidence that Josephine's nominee should turn out to be a friend of Ethel struck Mrs. Kent as strange, and presently she went down to interview the new kitcheneer.
Eliza Thick, a medium-sized but rather powerfully fashioned female, generously busted and well furnished with rich brown hair, was washing the dishes. She curtseyed respectfully as Mrs. Kent entered the kitchen.
“Good morning,” said Mrs. Kent. “You are Eliza Thick?”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“You brought a note from Ethel?”
“Yes, ma'am;” and fumbling in an opulent bosom, Eliza drew forth a crumpled scrap of paper.