the New York train.

Senor Delmonte is a very agreeable gentleman, and quite a favorite in
New York circles. In figure he rises far above ordinary humanity, six
feet two inches being, I believe, his exact height--and his very dark
complexion and stately gravity render him quite conspicuous in a
drawing-room. He is reported extremely wealthy.

Upon returning from a drive on the Pleasantville road with Senor
Delmonte, Ida ran down to the kitchen for a moment, to see if harmony
reigned there (for Lina and Minna are not, I regret to say, becoming
warm friends; but more of that to-morrow). Ida rarely troubles the
cook with her presence, for Lina, like all _cordons bleus_, is a great
despot, and impatient of _surveillance_; but as she can be trusted to
arrange an entire _menu_ without any hints from Ida, la Dame Chatelaine
gladly leaves the responsibility to her. What therefore was my
surprise to see Ida return from her visit downstairs with an
unmistakable look of anxiety upon her pretty face, and beckon me out of
the music room where we were sitting.

"What _do_ you think, Cecilia?" she announced, in despairing accents.
"Lina has made a soup of sour cream, which is now reposing in the
ice-box!"

"Of _what_?" I said, scarcely crediting her words, and running down to
the kitchen.

Lina's feelings were considerably ruffled that her young mistress did
not appreciate the soup, which she considered a triumph of art, and
which consisted of sour cream, spices, and a little sugar--to be eaten,
of course, cold.

"Nice soup," she said, in the most injured tones; "King of Sweden think
excellent, but Miss no like it."

It was, however, too late to make another soup, so we consoled
ourselves with the thought that a king approved of it, and we would
show a plebeian taste if we did not also appreciate it. However, some
wry faces were made over the unlucky soup at the table, and the King of
Sweden's taste was the subject of much merriment.

I was somewhat sceptical at first that Lina had ever been in the royal
household at Stockholm, notwithstanding that she did cook so admirably;
but she managed yesterday evening to tell me, in her broken English,
about her residence in the palace.

It seems that inexperienced cooks can, by paying a certain sum, be
admitted into the royal kitchen to learn from the chief cook. After
they have perfected themselves in their profession, they receive wages,
and upon leaving, are presented with