To say that the biscuits were delicious and the coffee uplifting, inspiring, would, in the mind of all who have shared the matutinal hospitality of the steward of the General, be an inadequate expression of gastronomic gratitude. Let it be sufficient to note that Anne Wellington beamed gratefully upon the steward, who, expanding under the genial influence, discussed his art with rare unction.
"The secret," he said, leaning confidentially over the back of Miss Wellington's chair, "is to be sparin' of the yeast; and then there is somethin' in raisin' 'em proper. Now, the last time Mrs. Jack Vanderlip was down here, she made me give her the receipt for them identical biscuits; gave me a dollar for it."
"Mrs. Jack Vanderlip!" cried Miss Wellington, "did she ever grace your table?"
"Did she ever grace this table! Well, I should say so, and the Tyler girls and Hammie Van Rensselaer and Billy Anstruther,—he comes down here often."
Miss Wellington laughed.
"I often have marvelled at Billy's peach-blow complexion," she said; "now I have the secret."
"Don't tell him I said so, Miss Wellington," said the steward.
The girl, with a biscuit poised daintily in her fingers, did not seem surprised to hear her name.
"Your acquaintance is rather exten—rather large," she said.
The steward actually blushed.