“It’s really terrible to be a slave to one’s cook,” she thought. “But I know perfectly well that if I ever tried to subjugate Mrs. Lupo I’d get mad, and she would just fold her tent like the Arab and silently steal away, and one morning there would be no breakfast.”
Billie had tried several methods with Mrs. Lupo. She had said good morning with a polite smile, but received no response. Once she had added:
“How do you feel this morning, Mrs. Lupo?”
A dead silence had followed this courteous inquiry.
“Wires crossed,” Percy had cried. “Try again, Central.”
They had all laughed at this witticism and Billie had hoped Mrs. Lupo had not understood.
“If you had lived in the mountains all your life I guess you wouldn’t be very communicative, either,” she had admonished Percy, after Mrs. Lupo had glided noiselessly out of the room.
“I guess I wouldn’t miss a call,” answered Percy. “If there was any one to call, I wouldn’t hang up the receiver.”
There were times, however, when Billie could scarcely conceal her irritation, and this morning nothing went quite as she had planned.
There was only enough bread for a dozen sandwiches and there were only six eggs.