“Do you like your breakfast, Brenda?” was Fanchon’s response.
“Not much,” answered Brenda crossly. “The bread is stale; there is no butter, and the egg is uneatable. I must jump up at once in order to attend to the housekeeping.”
“You needn’t, really, Brenda. Joey went round to the shops this morning and ordered things in. We’re going to have a couple of ducks for dinner, and green peas—”
“What do you mean?” said Brenda, her eyes flashing. “A couple of ducks and green peas! You know how expensive ducks are.”
“I don’t,” said Fanchon calmly—“all I know about them is that they are good to eat and Joey has ordered them. Oh—and we’re going to have raspberry and currant pie too, and a lot of cream with it—”
“And you expect me to pay for these luxuries out of the housekeeping money?”
“Of course we do, Brenda—who else would pay for them?”
“But I tell you I can’t—you don’t understand how little your father gives me; it is absolutely impossible—you must countermand that order at once, Fanchon—go and do it this minute while I get up. I shall send cook out presently for a bit of steak, and potatoes from the garden will do; there are no peas, and it is the height of extravagance to buy them.”
“You’ll be a great deal too late, for they are all in the house; and I think cook has put the ducks in the oven. Anyhow,” continued Fanchon, suddenly changing her tone, “I don’t mean to stop either Joey or Nina. They’re buying food—proper food—for us, and you’ve got to pay for it.”
“I don’t understand you—you are exceedingly impertinent. I must speak to your father.”