dging the lady's salute.

"And the Belasco adventuress in the corner."

"My stenographer," Dick explained, bowing again.

"I've got a bunch of men coming," Billy said; "if they put the place
on the bum you've got to help me bounce them, Dick."

"Up-stairs in the service kitchen," Betty was explaining to Caroline,
"they keep all the dishes that don't have to be heated for serving,
also the silver and daily linen supply. When we seat ourselves at a
table like this, the waitress to whom it is assigned goes in and gets
a basket of bread--I think it's a pretty idea to serve the bread in
baskets, don't you?--and whatever silver is necessary, and a bottle of
water. When she places those things she asks us what our choice of a
meat course is,--there is a choice except on chicken night--and gives
that order in the kitchen when she goes to get our soup."

"Who serves the things,--puts the meat on the plates, and dishes up
the vegetables?"

"The cook--Nancy won't let me call him the _chef_--because she is
going to make a specialty of the southern element of his education. He
has a serving-table by his range and he cuts up the meat and fowl, and
dishes up the vegetables. In a bigger establishment he would have a
helper to do that."

"Why can't Michael help him?" Dick asked.

"Michael calls him the Haythan Shinee. He is rather a _glossy_ man,
you know, and he says when the time comes for him, Michael, to dress
like a street cleaner and pilot a gravy boat, he'll let us know."

"Respect for his superiors is not one of Michael's most salient
characteristics," Dick twinkled. "Nancy and I have a scheme for making
a match between him and Hitty."

"Here's the soup," Betty announced. "Nancy's idea is to have
everything perfectly simple, and--and--"

"Simply perfect," Billy assisted her.

"Isn't she going to eat with us?" Dick asked.

"She can't. She's busy getting it going just at present. She may
appear later."

"Somebody's got to direct this pageant, old top," Billy reminded him.

"The soup is perfect," Caroline said seriously. "It is simple--with
that deceptive simplicity of a Paris morning frock."

"French home cooking is all like that," Dick said. "I like puree of
forget-me-nots!"

"Molly or Dolly, I can't tell the difference between you," Billy said,
"extend our compliments to Miss Martin, and tell her that this course
is a triumph."

"Wait till you see the roast, sir."

"It's the very _best_ sirloin," Dick an