To a mortal of a less exalted sphere the repast would have seemed a banquet.

Mrs.De Peyster, though an ascetic at noon, was something of an epicure at night; she liked a comfortable quantity, and that of many varieties, and these of the best.

Under the ministrations of Matilda she pleasurably disposed of clear soup, whitebait, a pair of squabs on toast with asparagus tips, and an alligator pear salad.
"Really, Matilda," she remarked with benign approval as she leisurely began on her iced strawberries, "I had quite forgotten that you were such a wonderful cook.

Most excellent!" "Thank you, ma'am," In her enjoyment Mrs.De Peyster had not noticed that throughout the meal her faithful attendant had worn a somewhat troubled look.
"Just give me food up to this standard, and I shall be most happy, my dear.

My summer may grow somewhat tedious toward the end; I shall count a great deal on good meals to keep it pleasant." "Of course--of course--" and then a salad plate slipped from Matilda's hands.