"Certainly," said Pen stiffly. "Eggs are twenty cents a dozen, butter forty cents the pound."
She bit her tongue as soon as it was out, but could not have helped herself. Some power stronger than her will forced her to put her worst foot foremost. Pendleton père was frankly shocked, but the young man was not put out at all. He grinned at her delightfully and murmured too low for her father to hear:
"Cheap at half the price!"
It did not help Pen any. "He's laughing at me!" she said to herself in a rage. "Thinks he can have me at his own price! ... He'll see!"
Pendleton coughed behind his hand as a direct reminder to Pen of the time-honored hospitality of their house. Pen didn't get it. The effort to master her inexplicable emotions made her look almost stupid. In the end Pendleton himself was obliged to say:
"You will have dinner with us?"
Counsell's face lighted up. "You are very kind, but..." He looked at Pen again.
"We'll be very pleased to have you," Pen said as primly as a school-marm, and despising herself for it. Why couldn't she be natural?
"Well, thanks, I will," Counsell said heartily. "After three days in camp a square meal will be a god-send! I may say I'm no great shakes of a cook."
Pen's breast warmed at the thought of feeding the youth. "Dinner" had the effect of recalling her scattered faculties. Her mind flew to the question: What is there? ... The ham-bone? ... Impossible! ... Stuffed eggs ... lettuce ... radishes ... strawberries. There is that bottle of my three year old grape wine... Not enough for a hungry man. He's so vigorous! ... If I could put it off until half-past one I might get the boys to catch me some soft crabs ... No, the tide is too high! ... I have it! The cheese soufflé!"