“I could,” she said. “The cook was so anxious about that souffle, and she said to do it justice it should be helped with a hot spoon. So I told Allenby to stand the spoon in a jug of boiling water, and give it to me at the very last moment. He was holding it in the napkin he had for drying it, I suppose, and he didn’t know that the handle was nearly red-hot. But I did, when I took it up!”
“My dear child!” exclaimed Mrs. West. “So your expression was due to agony!”
“Something like it,” Norah laughed. “It was just all I could do to hold it. But the souffle was worth it, wasn’t it? I must tell Miss de Lisle.”
“Miss de Lisle? Your cook?”
“Yes—it sounds well, doesn’t it?” said Norah. “She’s a dear, too.”
“She is certainly a treasure,” said Mrs. West. “Since the regiment went out I have been living in horrible boarding-houses, where they half-starve you, and what they do give you to eat is so murdered in the cooking that you can hardly swallow it. Economical for the management, but not very good for the guests. But one must take things as they come, in this horrible war.” She paused, the forced smile fading from her lips. Somehow Norah felt that she was sorry for her: she looked suddenly old, and worn and tired.
“Come and sit in this big chair, Mrs. West,” she said. “You must have had a long day.”
“Well, quite,” said Mrs. West. “You see, I went to take my husband from the hospital at twelve o’clock, and then I found that your father had made this delightful arrangement for us. It seemed too good to be true. So I had to send Algernon to his club, and I rushed back to my boarding-house and packed my things: and then I had to do some shopping, and meet them at the station. And of course I never could get a taxi when I wanted one. I really think I am a little tired. This seems the kind of house where it doesn’t matter to admit it.”
“Of course not—isn’t it a Home for Tired People?” Norah laughed. Sarah entered with coffee, and she fussed gently about her guest, settling her cushions and bringing her cup to her side with cream and sugar.
“It’s very delightful to be taken care of,” said Mrs. West, with a sigh. The affected, jerky manner dropped from her, and she became more natural. “My children are all boys: I often have been sorry that one was not a girl. A daughter must be a great comfort. Have you any sisters, my dear?”