om recent proximity to the range. She described her entrance in lines
she had fashioned for the purpose:--

"She came
While yet the jocund day was young, and fetched
In hands but lightly singed upon the stove
The coffee-pot, with muddy contents filled--"

Kirkwood, concealing his surprise at seeing her, took his cue:--

"And he, toying meanwhile with fruitage of the vine,
To-wit the mellow grape, scarce breathed to see
The nut-brown maid, and gasped, 'Where is the cook?'"

"Oh, the cook has went, to come down to the plain prose of it, daddy.
There was one here yesterday, but one's dynastic aunts had picked her
for her powers of observation and ready communication, so I fired her
hence. And with that careless grace which I hope you find becoming in me
I decided to run the shop all by my lonesome for a while. I thought I'd
start with breakfast so that any poisons that may creep into the
victuals will have time to work while the drug-stores are open. How long
do you cook an egg, is it two minutes or two weeks?"

"This will never do," said Kirkwood gravely, watching her pour the
coffee. "You shouldn't have discharged one cook until you had another."

"Tut! There's not enough to do in this house for two able-bodied
women--and I'm one! Rose taught me how to make coffee yesterday, and
toast and eggs are easy. Just look at that coffee! Real amber? It's an
improvement for looks on what you've been brewing for yourself in camp.
And I've been watching your winning ways with the camp frying-pan. Rose
gave me a cook-book that is full of perfectly adorable ideas. Come up
for lunch and I'll show you some real creations."

She slipped away into the kitchen and reappeared with toast and boiled
eggs. She had cooked the eggs by the watch as Rose had instructed her.
Her father relaxed the severity of his countenance to commend them. But
he did not like Phil in this new role. The casting forth of the cook
provided by the aunts would be regarded as an offense not lightly to be
passed by those ladies; but Phil had never appeared so wholly
self-possessed. She poured coffee for herself, diluted it with hot
water, buttered a slice of toast with composure, tasted it and
complained that the grocer had sent rancid butter.

Kirkwood pushed aside his Bagehot. He did not know just how to deal with
a daughter who, without the slightest warning, dispatched her cook and
took upon herself the burden of t