"I can imagine Arline Thayer gravely bending over that little gas stove of Ruth's," said Grace.
"She had all sorts of splendid ideas about what we might make, but no one had the slightest idea as to how to make anything she proposed."
"I am afraid none of us would ever set the world on fire as cooks," observed Elfreda with sarcasm.
"Where's Miriam?" asked Anne, slipping out of her coat and unpinning her hat.
"Writing to her mother," returned Elfreda. "Now tell us what you cooked."
Frequent bursts of laughter arose as Anne described Arline's valiant attempt at making a Spanish omelet from a recipe in a cook-book she had purchased that very day for twenty-five cents at the little book store just below the campus. "It was called the 'Model Housewife,' but the omelet was really a dreadful affair," continued Anne. "Then I let the potatoes boil dry and they scorched on the bottom, and no one knew how to make a cream dressing for the peas.
"Ruth made a Waldorf salad. We had a bottle of dressing, thank goodness. And Arline made coffee, which she really does know how to make. We had olives and pickles and cakes, and two dozen of those cunning little rolls from that German bakery down the street. So we really managed to get enough to eat after all. There wasn't much left except the omelet, and no one wanted that."
"I don't suppose it would be of the least use to propose tea," said Grace innocently.
"Well, of course, if you insist," declared Elfreda politely.
At this juncture Miriam appeared in the door. "I thought I'd drop in for a minute. You were making so much noise I suspected that a tea party was in progress," she said significantly.