"Here, put your arms through this! There, how 'chic' you look! Bob, do you realize that this is our first breakfast on the porch? I must get some of those feathery things growing out there; I want them for the table. We must celebrate!"
"If having flowers on the table is celebrating, you celebrate every day!"
"Of course, my dear! Our married life is just one long celebration. Haven't you discovered that yet?"
Bettina had thus far no flower garden, but she was never without flowers. The weeds and grasses in her backyard had a way of turning themselves into charming centerpieces, and then, too, red clover was always plentiful.
Bob moved the coffee percolator and the electric toaster to the porch and attached them while Bettina spread the luncheon cloth upon the small table. "Aren't you glad we thought to plan it so that we might have the percolator and the toaster out here?" she said. "That was your idea, wasn't it?"
"Aren't you glad you married me?" said Bob enthusiastically. "I'll bet I'm the only man on this street who can frizzle dried beef and cream it! And make coffee!"
"Who taught you that, I'd like to know? Give some credit to your wife who forces you to do it! Here, Bridget! The grapefruit is in the ice box; did you see it? And the oatmeal in the cooker is waiting to be reheated. Set it in a kettle of water over the fire, so that it won't burn. There are rolls in the bread-box. Put them in the oven a minute to warm up. If they seem dry, dip them quickly in water before heating them. Now shall I be making some toast-rounds for the chipped beef?"
"Well, you might be doing that. I'm getting dizzy with all these orders, ma'am. You can hunt up the cream and the milk and the butter, too, if you will. Now for the beef! Say, but this is going to be a good breakfast! 'Befoh de wah' I used to sleep late on Sundays, but not any more for me! I like to cook!"
"There's someone at the door. I'll go; you're busier than I am."
There on the doorstep beside the Sunday paper stood a little four-year-old neighbor, her hands full of old-fashioned pinks.