“I wish I could,” I said earnestly. Bonnat stared at me a moment, and then he said, moving toward the door:
“I’m going to the delicatessen, and I’ll bring back what?”
“Anything that is not cooked,” I said. “I do so want to cook a real dinner, and there’s a couple of pans here though I wish there was more than one gas thing.”
While he was gone I went quickly to work. I fairly flew about that studio, putting everything to rights, piling up the things in their proper places, hanging up the things that should be hung, and sweeping, tidying, dusting, till it really looked like a different place. Then I set the table with two plates I found in his trunk, one teaspoon, one knife and two forks. There was only one cup between us, but there were two glasses. Presently Bonnat came in with his arms full of packages. He stood in the doorway, just looking about him, and slowly over his face there came the most beautiful smile I have ever seen in the world. Somehow it just seemed to embrace the whole room, and me, too. He set the packages down, and this is what he had bought: Frankfurters, cheese, eggs, butter, bread, pickles, jam, and a lot of other things, but not a thing to cook except the frankfurters. I must have looked disappointed, for he asked anxiously:
“Isn’t it all right?”
“Oh, I had set my mind on making a rice pudding,” I said.
“That’s all right,” he declared eagerly. “You shall, too. What do you need for it?”
“Well, rice, cinnamon, sugar, milk, eggs and butter.”
He laughed, and went singing and rattling down the stairs on his second errand. I could hear him when he came back all the way from the entrance of the building; but I loved his noise!
I made that pudding. As we had no oven, I had to boil it, but I put cinnamon heavily on top, so it looked as if browned, and it did taste good. We were both so tired of the cheap restaurants that everything tasted just fine, and Bonnat leaned over the table and fervently declared that I was the best cook he had ever met in his life. We were both laughing about that, when after a rat-tat on the door, it burst open and in came Fisher. He stopped short and stared at us.