“Well, a small piece then.”
Mrs Martendijk ate very little also; and Jo could not help noticing how Cousin Martendijk, who was rather shortsighted, gave a disdainful sniff every now and then at one or other of the dishes, and how his wife, without even honouring them with a glance, sent away one after another with a brief but decisive “tida.”[[42]]
My gentle readers will admit that this was a very trying experience for a hostess. Jo begins all at once to doubt her own domestic capabilities, and the painful conviction grows upon her that the fowl must be very tough, and the fish not fresh, and that there is a want of variety. A sort of dumb rage at the cook gradually takes possession of her,—she has such a trick of making the sambalans too hot; and she casts a vindictive glance at the “boy” when he forgets to hand round the pickles. And when the pickles are likewise smelt, and examined, and declined, she feels her face blaze, and her appetite vanish, and a wild longing comes over her for the moment when she can give the signal to rise from table.
“My dear cousin,” began Emily the next morning, following Jo into the store-room, where she was busy giving out provisions, “I think you were rather hurt at our eating so little yesterday, were you not?”
“Well, to tell the truth——”
“Now then, to put it all right, I’ll just tell you what was the real reason. You use cocoa-nut oil, don’t you? and you don’t make it at home! I tasted that at once.”
“No, that is true; the cook has enough to do as it is.”
“Oh, my dear! don’t you pay any attention to a cook like that. They can easily get through all their work. And do you know why Piet ate so little? Everything was too strong for him. I’m just telling you, you know, so that you may manage things better another time.”
“Yes, but that won’t be so very easy,” Jo ventured, “because—well, you see, my husband likes his food very highly seasoned.”
“That is a pity. But,” continued Emily, with an amiable little laugh, “I know what you can do. Have some sambal[[43]] made separately for him, and he can mix it with his food. We must adapt ourselves to one another, must we not?”