Bob took out his cigarette case, and Kate seated herself on the dresser, with her feet on a chair.
"We're marooned!" she said; the words came out of a violet smoke-cloud.
"Looks like it," said Bob as he lighted his cigarette from hers.
"I say, can you cook?" asked the voice from the cloud.
"I can make a Welsh rarebit."
"Well, I'll thank you not to." Kate volplaned from her perch on the dresser. "Let's see what there is. There's sure to be something cold, and, if there are eggs enough, I'll make an omelette a mile wide."
There were cold meats of various kinds, also cold boiled potatoes. These Kate cut up and placed in a frying pan, while Bob made a fire in the range, and, under Kate's direction, put the plates and dishes for the omelette and the potatoes in the oven to warm.
When everything was ready, Kate sent Bob upstairs to set the table and ring the gong for luncheon. As he hurried through the servants' corridor he met Mrs. Merle.
"Oh, Mr. Baxter!" she cried. "Did you ever see anything like it! I am just going down to see if I can find anything for lunch."
Bob smiled sweetly as he held the door open and ushered Mrs. Merle into the kitchen.