Bessie was sarcastic.
"You might give Eliza another trial. She told you, if you didn't like the way she burned the bacon, to burn it yourself, and as you've followed her advice, she might be able to give you other useful hints on similar lines."
Rupert indulged himself in the same vein.
"Then there's Eliza's brother. He threatened to knock your blooming head off for saying Eliza was dishonest, just because she collared everything she laid her hands on; he might turn out a useful sort of creature to have about the place."
"It's all very well for you to laugh, but it's beyond a jest. I don't know how we're going to cook the dinner."
"Can I be of any assistance?" I inquired. "First of all, what is there to cook?"
It seemed that there were a good many things to cook. A turkey, a goose, beef, plum pudding, mince pies, custard, sardines--it seemed that Molly, the third girl, as she phrased it, could "live on sardines," and esteemed no dinner a decent dinner at which they did not appear--together with a list of etceteras half as long as my arm.
"One thing is clear; you can't cook all those things to-day."
"We can't cook anything."
This was Rupert. He was tilting his chair back, and had his face turned towards the ceiling.