lace
cards.

"Rosemary," Miss Parsons beckoned to her, "I just tasted the soup
and it is delicious, but I think a grain more of salt will improve
it. Just a dash, dear, and if you're afraid of getting too much in,
don't touch it. Everything going all right?"

"All right," nodded Rosemary, forbearing to mention that Fannie
Mears refused to speak to her and was evidently cherishing a
smoldering resentment that might burst into flame at an awkward
moment. Two of the girls were limping about in high heeled shoes and
these must be shielded from the critical eye and caustic tongue of
the cooking teacher, lest they become temperamental and refuse to
"wait" at all. Assuredly Rosemary had her hands full.

She went into the kitchen, tasted the soup and salted it carefully.
It was rich and smooth and Rosemary felt that when the time came to
ladle it into the cups she would have every right to be proud of her
ability, for she alone had made the soup, the other girls fearing
the mysterious "curdling" that sometimes spoiled their product.

Just before serving time, Miss Parsons called her for a whispered
consultation as to the seating of a special guest and when Rosemary
returned to the kitchen, she found the trays of soup cups ready on
the table. While she and two other girls filled them, the teachers
were coming into the dining room and finding their places by means
of the prettily lettered cards. By the time all were seated, seven
young waitresses were filing into the room, bearing in their hands
the trays of steaming soup.

They made a pretty picture and the guests smiled graciously as the
cups of thick cream soup, each with four delicately browned croutons
swimming on the top, were placed before them. The girls returned to
the kitchen as soon as all were served, for Miss Parsons had
instructed Rosemary to have them help her with the dishes for the
next course instead of waiting around the room for the guests to
finish.

Rosemary had decided to have a simple, hearty dinner, since the
weather was cold and many of the teachers would have a long ride to
reach their homes that night. So individual chicken pies, baked
potatoes and a corn pudding were to follow the soup, the young cook
having wisely determined to omit any extra frills that would add to
the difficulties of serving.

"Nobody's touched the soup!" reported Nina Edmonds, who was the
first to return with her tray, when the buzzer under Miss Parson's
chair sounded