d of the household with no uncertain grip, revolutionizing
things till Sheldon hardly recognized the place. For the first time the
bungalow was clean and orderly. No longer the house-boys loafed and did
as little as they could; while the cook complained that "head belong him
walk about too much," from the strenuous course in cookery which she put
him through. Nor did Sheldon escape being roundly lectured for his
laziness in eating nothing but tinned provisions. She called him a
muddler and a slouch, and other invidious names, for his slackness and
his disregard of healthful food.

She sent her whale-boat down the coast twenty miles for limes and
oranges, and wanted to know scathingly why said fruits had not long since
been planted at Berande, while he was beneath contempt because there was
no kitchen garden. Mummy apples, which he had regarded as weeds, under
her guidance appeared as appetizing breakfast fruit, and, at dinner, were
metamorphosed into puddings that elicited his unqualified admiration.
Bananas, foraged from the bush, were served, cooked and raw, a dozen
different ways, each one of which he declared was better than any other.
She or her sailors dynamited fish daily, while the Balesuna natives were
paid tobacco for bringing in oysters from the mangrove swamps. Her
achievements with cocoanuts were a revelation. She taught the cook how
to make yeast from the milk, that, in turn, raised light and airy bread.
From the tip-top heart of the tree she concocted a delicious salad. From
the milk and the meat of the nut she made various sauces and dressings,
sweet and sour, that were served, according to preparation, with dishes
that ranged from fish to pudding. She taught Sheldon the superiority of
cocoanut cream over condensed cream, for use in coffee. From the old and
sprouting nuts she took the solid, spongy centres and turned them into
salads. Her forte seemed to be salads, and she astonished him with the
deliciousness of a salad made from young bamboo shoots. Wild tomatoes,
which had gone to seed or been remorselessly hoed out from the beginning
of Berande, were foraged for salads, soups, and sauces. The chickens,
which had always gone into the bush and hidden their eggs, were given
laying-bins, and Joan went out herself to shoot wild duck and wild
pigeons for the table.

"Not that I like to do this sort of work," she explained, in reference to
the cookery; "but because I can't get away from Dad's t