a'am."

"If you keep on having so much food sent in--"

"And such high quality, ma'am."

"Some one may suspect--become curious--and might find out--might find
out--"

"That's what I was thinking of, ma'am."

Mrs. De Peyster had risen.

"Matilda, we cannot run that risk!"

"Perhaps--perhaps, ma'am, we'd better change our butcher and grocer."

"That would do no good, for the new ones would find out that there was
supposed to be only a single person here, No, such ordering has got to
be stopped!"

"If you can stand it, I think it would be safer, ma'am. But what will
you eat?"

There was a brief silence. Mrs. De Peyster's air grew almost tragic.

"Matilda, do you realize that you and I have got to live for
the summer, for the entire summer, upon the amount you have been
accustomed to ordering for yourself!"

"It looks that way, ma'am."

The epicure in Mrs. De Peyster spoke out in a voice of even deeper
poignancy.

"Two persons--do you realize that, Matilda!--two adult persons will
have to live for three months upon the rations of one person!"

"And what's worse," added Matilda, "as I told you, I don't eat much.
I've usually had just a little tea and now and then a chop."

"A little tea and a chop!" Mrs. De Peyster looked as though she were
going to faint. "A little tea and a chop!... For three months!...
Matilda!"

It seemed plain, however, that this was the only way out. But standing
over the remains of the last genuine meal she expected to taste until
the summer's end, her brow began slowly to clear.

"Matilda," she said after a moment, in a rebuking tone, "I'm surprised
you did not see the solution to this!"

"Is there one, ma'am? What is it?"

"You are so fixed in the habit of sending your orders to the
tradespeople that your mind cannot conceive of any other procedure.
You are to go out in person, at night, if you like, to shops where
you are not known, pay cash for whatever you want, and carry your
purchases home with you. It is really extremely simple."

"Why, of course, ma'am," meekly agreed Matilda.

With the specter of famine thus banished, confidence, good humor, and
the luxurious expectancy of a reposeful summer returned to Mrs. De
Peyster. Soon she was being further diverted by the mild excitement of
being dressed in one of Matilda's sober housekeeper gowns, the twin
of the dress Matilda now wore, for her evening ride with William. They
were fortunately of nearly the same figure, t