Stella opened her beautiful eyes wide as she looked at it in wonder. Amy only smiled; but Vava, impulsive as usual, exclaimed, 'What are you doing with that old frying-pan? Do you have to cook your own dinner in your office?'
'I should think not, indeed! I should like to see our boss's face if we started making smells like that; besides, we don't need to; we get very good lunches at this club,' cried Eva, trying to pack the despised frying-pan up again in the paper; a futile attempt, as the wrapping was all torn.
'Then what on earth are you carrying such a thing about with you for?' demanded Amy, looking half-annoyed and half-amused.
'I brought it to show you all; it is for the new house!' she exclaimed triumphantly.
'Which we have not got yet,' put in Amy.
'But it's old—old and dirty,' objected Vava, who had been looking at it with disgust.
'That's only rust; it will clean off. I got it for threepence at an East-End market; it is a tremendous bargain, and is the beginning of our "save"—pots and pans are a most expensive item in house-furnishing; and I am going to undertake that part of it myself, and get one article each day. There was a splendid big iron kettle, with a hole in it, for sixpence'——she said.
But a chorus of laughter stopped her in her list of bargains.
'I don't think I care about eating things fried in a pan coming from an East-End market,' remarked Vava.
'And I don't see much good in a kettle with a hole in it,' said Stella; but instead of being shocked, as Vava evidently was, she seemed rather amused.