Swan's housekeeping qualities made her ashamed of her own imperfections; and when, thinking that Swan must be hungry and that the least she could do was to set out food for him, she opened the cupboard, she had a swift, embarrassed vision of her own culinary imperfections.

She could cook better food than her dad had been content to eat and to set before others, but Swan's bread was a triumph in sour dough.

Biscuits tall and light as bread can be she found, covered neatly with a cloth.

Prunes stewed so that there was not one single wrinkle in them--Lorraine could scarcely believe they were prunes until she tasted them.

She was investigating a pot of beans when Swan came in.
"Food I am thinking of, Miss," he grinned at her.