"There seems little chance of escape for me. From what Angelina herself says, I should judge that you and she had already settled matters. I do not wish to play the part of a tyrannical parent and so, to please you, just to please you, Martine, I will engage Angelina."
"Thank you, mamma! You are an angel. I always knew you were."
"I hope that Angelina is an angel in something besides her name, and I wish that her name were less dressy. Would she care if I should call her plain Mary?"
"Oh, mamma, not 'plain,' at any rate. I thought you understood that Angelina is rather dressy in her feelings. She takes the greatest delight in her name. Please don't think of calling her anything else."
So Angelina remained plain Angelina, and on account of her previous experience with Brenda, proved very useful to Mrs. Stratford. For a week or two a succession of cooks passed in and out of the little kitchen, until Martine's mother despaired of ever having the apartment in running order.
In this emergency Angelina was only too proud to show what she could do. She would not admit that she had ever learned anything from anybody. "I'm a natural born cook," she would say; "and if I didn't consider it a menial position, I would become a professional. It's on account of my Spanish blood, I suppose, that I'm able to season things so well. You know in Spain they like things hot and spicy."
"Spanish blood?" questioned Mrs. Stratford, as Angelina turned away. "Aren't the Rosas Portuguese?"
"Yes, mamma, or they were until our war with Spain. Brenda explained it all to me. During the war Angelina thought it would make her more interesting if she called herself Spanish, and now she probably has persuaded herself that she really is Spanish. This amuses her and doesn't hurt anyone else."
"But I don't like the idea of her being untruthful. This quality may extend to other things."
"I hope not, mamma. But then we can watch her."