"Yes, indeed," said Caldegard. "I've never in my life drunk black coffee to beat what your yellow-haired Dutch girl used to make."
Randal turned to his brother. "Parlour-maid, Dick. Best servant I ever had. Didn't mind the country, and after she'd been here a fortnight disclosed a heaven-sent gift for making coffee. Took some diplomacy, I can tell you, to get cook to cede her rights."
"Why haven't you got her now?" asked Dick.
"Mother started dying in Holland," replied his brother, "and we miss our coffee."
"I'll do it to-morrow night," said Dick.
"What'll Rogers say?" said Randal.
"Rogers? You don't tell me you've got Rogers still?"
"Of course I have."
"Not my Mrs. Rogers!" exclaimed Dick. "Why, she'd let me skate all over her kitchen, if I wanted to."