Under One Flag. Marsh Richard

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      "Oh, I daresay there's food, but-it wants cooking.

      "Well, let's cook it! Oh, do let's cook it! I should so love to cook my own breakfast; I never have; it would be just like a picnic."

      "I don't know that I care for picnics; I'm too old."

      "I've seen people older than you are." I felt flattered; I am not so very old after all. "What have you got? Have you any eggs?"

      "I shouldn't be surprised if I have some eggs."

      "Then, to begin with, we'll say eggs. How shall we cook them?"

      "Boil them."

      "Couldn't we fry them? I'm rather fond of fried eggs."

      "So far as I'm concerned I'm sure we couldn't fry them."

      "I'm afraid I might make rather a mess of it. Then we'll say boiled eggs. What else-bacon?"

      "I imagine that there may be bacon."

      "Then we'll say eggs and bacon; that'll be lovely. Don't you like bacon?"

      "I don't object to it-occasionally-if it's properly cooked."

      "How do you like it cooked?"

      "I haven't a notion. I've never even seen anyone cook bacon."

      "I don't think I have either. But we'll see what we can do. And cocoa?"

      "No cocoa. I doubt if there's any in the place. And we won't say coffee. I don't believe there are more than half a dozen people in the world who can make good coffee. And I feel convinced that I'm not one of them."

      "I don't care for coffee. We'll say tea-and toast."

      "I think I could make some toast, if pressed."

      "I'm glad you can do something. You see; now the fire's going to burn. Where's the pantry? Let's go and look what's in it."

      The fire certainly did show signs of an intention to behave as a fire ought to. I don't know how she had done it, it seemed simple enough, but there it was. Feeling more and more conscious that my conduct was altogether improper, not to say ridiculous, I led that child from the dining-room, across the kitchen, to the receptacle where Mrs Baines keeps her store of provisions. She looked round and round and I knew she was not impressed.

      "There doesn't seem to be very much to eat, does there?"

      The same thing had struck me. The shelves seemed full of emptiness, and there was nothing hanging from the hooks. Still, as coming from an entire stranger, the remark was not in the best of taste.

      "You see," I explained, feebly enough, "it's Christmas."

      That child's eyes opened wider than ever; I was on the point of warning her that if she went on like that they would occupy the larger part of her face.

      "Of course it's Christmas. Do you suppose that I don't know it's Christmas? That's just the reason why you should have more to eat than ever. Some people eat more at Christmas than they do during all the rest of the year put together."

      This was such a truly astonishing statement to make that, unless I wished to enter into a preposterous argument, I had nothing to say. I also realised that it did not become me to enter at any length, to a mere child-and she an utter stranger! – into the reasons why, at Christmas, it had come to pass that my larder did not happen to be so well filled as it might have been. I merely endeavoured to pin her to the subject in hand.

      "There are eggs and bacon and bread, and I believe there's tea-all the materials for the morning meal. I don't know what else you require."

      "That's true-that's quite true. There are eggs in three different baskets; I expect one basket's for cooking eggs, one for breakfast eggs and one for new-laid. We'll have new-laid. How many shall we have? Could you eat two?"

      "I have been known to eat two; especially when, on occasions like the present, breakfast has been about two hours late."

      "Then we'll have two each. Then there's the bacon; fortunately it's already cut into rashers, but-how shall we cook it? I know!" She clapped her hands. "I'll fetch Marjorie!"

      "Marjorie!" As she uttered the name I was conscious of a curious fluttering sensation, which was undoubtedly the result of the irregular proceedings. I had known a person of that name myself once, but it was absurd to suppose that the fluttering had anything to do with that. "Who's Marjorie?"

      "Marjorie's my sister, of course." I did not see any of course about it, but I had too much self-respect to say so. "She's ever so fond of cooking; she's a splendid cook. I'll go and get her to cook that bacon."

      Before I could stop her she was off; the child moved like lightning. What I ought to have done would have been to slam my front door and refuse to open it again. Who was Marjorie? Extraordinary how at the mere mental repetition of the name that fluttering returned. Her sister? She might be a young woman of two or three-and-twenty. I could not allow strange persons of that description to cook my bacon, with me in my dressing-gown and soot upon my nose.

      I am practically persuaded that I was nearly on the point of closing the front door, with a view-so to speak-of not opening it again during the whole of the day, when that child returned, with another child a little taller than herself. This child had black hair, dark blue eyes, and was as self-possessed a young person as I ever yet encountered; grave as a judge-graver! She looked me straight in the face, with her head inclined just a little forward.

      "I beg your pardon. It seems curious that I should call on you without even knowing your name, but my sister Kathleen told me that you were in rather a trouble about your breakfast, so I thought I would come and see if I could help you."

      "That's-that's very good of you. Will-will you both of you breakfast with me?"

      I wasn't one quarter so self-possessed as she was; indeed, I was all of a quiver.

      "Kathleen tells me that she has already consented to do so, and I should be very pleased to join her. Now, Kathleen, where is that bacon you spoke about?"

      They went into the pantry and took matters into their own hands as if the place belonged to them and as if they had been cooking my breakfasts for years. I positively felt in the way, and hinted as much-with an inclination to stammer.

      "Perhaps-perhaps you'll be able to do without my assistance."

      The young woman was quite clear upon that subject, and did not hesitate to say so.

      "Thank you; I would much rather be without your assistance. I don't care to have men meddle in domestic matters."

      She spoke as if she had been fifty instead of perhaps twelve. I wondered if she had her sentiments from her mother; I could have sworn she had them from someone.

      "Then in that case I might-I might have a wash and-and put myself into another coat."

      She looked me up and down with something in her air which was not suggestive of approval.

      "I'm sure you might. You don't look at all tidy; not in the least like Christmas Day. Only please be ready in five minutes."

      I was, so was the bacon; everything was ready in that five minutes. I do not know how they СКАЧАТЬ