“Cooking supper. Have some? You’re just in time.” He took the towel from his neck and, going to the gas-stove, used it to remove a pie-plate from above a tiny frying-pan.
“Supper?” echoed Jack. “Do you mean that you—cook your own meals?”
“Yes,” responded Anthony, calmly. He approached the table with the pan, and from it dexterously transferred six small sausages on to the empty plate. Then he put a spoonful of milk and two spoonsful of sugar into the bottom of the cup and filled it to the brim with steaming and very fragrant coffee. “Yes, I’ve been my own chef,” he continued, “ever since I came here. When Gooch and I were together it was a good deal simpler. I got breakfast and he got supper; our lunches were just cold things. You see, Weatherby, we’re poor folks, and I couldn’t stay in college three months if I had to pay four dollars a week for meals. As it is, it’s a close haul sometimes.”
“Everything looks very nice,” murmured Jack, taking the chair and observing the proceedings with frank curiosity.
“Well, if you don’t object, I’ll just begin operations while things are hot,” said Anthony. He tucked a corner of the bath-towel under his chin and began his repast. “There’s nothing sinful in poverty, they say, and of course they’re right; but it’s pretty hard sometimes not to be ashamed of it. I don’t tell every one that I cook my meals in my room. It wouldn’t do. But you were certain to find it out sooner or later, and it might as well be sooner. I say, would you mind turning off the gas over there? Thanks.”
“Do you mean that you can save money this way?” asked Jack as he sat down again.
“You better believe it. When Gooch and I kept house together our food cost us about one dollar and five cents apiece every week. I guess now it’ll cost me nearer two dollars.”
“But even then you’re saving two dollars by not going to a boarding-house,” said Jack reassuringly.
“Yes, I know,” replied Anthony, as he started on his second sausage, “but four dollars a week is my limit. And I’m paying more for this room than I did for my half of the other one. I guess I’ll have to retrench a while. Dad pays my tuition and I look after the rest myself. I earn enough in the summer taking out fishing parties and the like of that to last me. Last summer was a poor season, though; fish wouldn’t bite and folks wouldn’t go out with me. However, I got a scholarship, and that helped some. But I’m sailing a good deal nearer the wind than I did last year. And next week I’ve got to go over to Robinson, and I guess that will just about bankrupt me for a while.”
“What are you going there for?” Jack inquired.