“And now, if you’ll tell me where things are I’ll prepare your Majesty’s supper,” she said playfully.
“Thank you, but I’m not hungry,” replied Sylvia.
“I don’t see how you can help being,” said Katherine wonderingly. “Or have you had something to eat since your aunt went away?” she added.
“No,” replied Sylvia.
“Then you must be famished,” said Katherine decidedly, “and I’m going to get you something.”
She moved toward a cupboard on the wall over in a corner of the room where she conjectured the supplies must be kept. The cupboard had leaded glass doors, she noticed, and the framework was of mahogany to match the woodwork of the room. It had probably been designed as a curio cabinet by the builder of the house.
“Never mind, I don’t want anything to eat,” said Sylvia again, in a tone which was both commanding and pleading.
“You must,” said Katherine firmly, with her hand on the cut glass knob of the cupboard door. “You’re cold because you’re hungry.”
She opened the door and investigated the inside. There were some cheap china dishes and some pots and pans, but no sign of food. She glanced swiftly around the room, but nowhere else were there any supplies. Then Katherine understood. Her intuition was slow, but finally it came to her why Sylvia did not want to admit that she was hungry. There was nothing to eat in the house. There was a pinched, blue look about Sylvia’s face that Katherine had seen before, in the settlement where she had worked with Miss Fairlee. She recognized the hunger look.
Sylvia met her eye with an attempt at lofty unconcern. “Our royal larder,” she remarked, valiantly struggling to maintain her royal dignity, “is exhausted at present. I must speak to my steward about it.”