"It looks that way, ma'am."
The epicure in Mrs. De Peyster spoke out in a voice of even deeper poignancy.
"Two persons—do you realize that, Matilda!—two adult persons will have to live for three months upon the rations of one person!"
"And what's worse," added Matilda, "as I told you, I don't eat much. I've usually had just a little tea and now and then a chop."
"A little tea and a chop!" Mrs. De Peyster looked as though she were going to faint. "A little tea and a chop!... For three months!... Matilda!"
It seemed plain, however, that this was the only way out. But standing over the remains of the last genuine meal she expected to taste until the summer's end, her brow began slowly to clear.
"Matilda," she said after a moment, in a rebuking tone, "I'm surprised you did not see the solution to this!"
"Is there one, ma'am? What is it?"
"You are so fixed in the habit of sending your orders to the tradespeople that your mind cannot conceive of any other procedure. You are to go out in person, at night, if you like, to shops where you are not known, pay cash for whatever you want, and carry your purchases home with you. It is really extremely simple."
"Why, of course, ma'am," meekly agreed Matilda.