“Let’s keep it a secret,” she said—“do.”—Oh, Elizabeth!
“Well, if you really think——” said Andy.
Then Norah clattered up with the little cart, and Elizabeth got in.
CHAPTER VIII
It was the day of the luncheon-party at the Vicarage, and the Vicar sat in solemn conclave with his lady-cook-housekeeper.
“Then you really think boilers?” he said anxiously.
“I ordered boilers, so they’ll have to be,” said Mrs. Jebb, with the air of a person rather at the end of her tether. “We agreed that with white sauce and grated egg and lemon slices you could make boiled fowls look more dressy than plain roast.”
“Of course, of course,” said Andy hastily, wishing to keep her in a good temper until the great day was over. “Stupid of me to have forgotten that. And the asparagus”—he hardly dared it, but he did—“I suppose you’re quite accustomed to cooking asparagus?”
“Any one can cook asparagus,” said Mrs. Jebb coldly. “I haven’t cooked it, because we never had it when I was a girl at home, and Mr. Jebb didn’t like it. But it’s boiled with plain water.”