Molly put down her knife and her half-pared potato, and arose. She had heard of La Fleur, whose fame had spread through and about Thorbury.
"Sit down, mum," said she. "This isn't much of a kitchen, for I haven't had time to clane it up, an' as for me, I'm not much of a cook, nather; for when ye have to be iverything, ye can't be anything to no great ixtent."
La Fleur, still standing, looked at her severely.
"How often do you bake?" she asked.
"Three times a week," answered Molly, lying.
"The ladies upstairs," said La Fleur, "have been accustomed to fresh rolls every morning for their breakfast."
"An' afther this, they shall have 'em," said Molly, "Sundays an' weekday, an' sorry I am that I didn't know before that they was used to have 'em."
"How do you make your coffee?" asked La Fleur.
Molly looked at her hesitatingly.
"I am very keerful about that," she said. "I niver let it bile too much—"