OLIVE IN ITALY
BOOK I.—SIENA
CHAPTER I
“I believe that Olive Agar is going to tell you that she can’t pay her bill,” said the landlady’s daughter as she set the breakfast tray down on the kitchen table.
“Good gracious, Gwen, how you do startle one! Why?”
“She began again about the toast, and I told her straight that you always set yourself against any unnecessary cooking. Meat and vegetables must be done, I said, but those who can’t relish bread as it comes from the baker’s, and plain boiled potatoes, can go without, I said. Then she says, of course I must do as my mother tells me, and would I ask you to step up and see her presently.”
“Perhaps you were a bit too sharp with her.”
The girl sniffed resentfully. “Good riddance if she goes,” she called after her mother.