hastily, seeing Cyn about to do so, "you will
tip the whole thing over!"

"Then we must have a side-board," Cyn announced, with a plate of steak
in one hand, and the big fruit-dish in the other. "Put my writing-desk
on a chair, please; spread a towel over it, and there you have it!"

"But what a quantity of eatables we have! Two pounds of steak, ten big
potatoes, a two-quart dish of tomatoes, two large pies, two Charlotte
Russes, an urn of coffee, a dozen oranges and a box of figs--good
gracious! Think of two people eating all that!" exclaimed Nattie,
decidedly dismayed at the prospect.

"It is considerable," Cyn confessed, surveying the array with a slightly
daunted expression. "You see I am not used to buying for a family, and I
was afraid of getting too little. But," brightening, "there isn't more
than one quart of the tomatoes, and there are _three_ of us, you know--the
Duchess!"

"To be sure; I had forgotten her!" Nattie said, recovering her
equanimity, and glancing at the purring animal, who was looking on
approvingly, and evidently appreciated the difference between sirloin
and her usual rations of round.

"Then let the revels commence, at once!" cried Cyn, rolling down her
sleeves, while Nattie wiped the smut from her face.

But now another difficulty presented itself; the chairs were all too low
to admit of feasting with the anticipated rapture; this was soon
overcome, however, by piling a few books in the highest chair, and
appropriating the music-stool.

"Now for a feast," exclaimed Nattie, exultantly, as they sat down
triumphant, and she brandished her very big knife and extremely small
fork, while Cyn poured the coffee from the--urn; an undertaking attended
with some difficulty, and requiring caution; and the Duchess looked on
expectantly.

And then--the goal almost reached--upon their startled ears came a
dreadful sound--the sound of a knock at the door!

Down to the ground went Nattie's knife and fork, the coffee-urn narrowly
escaped a similar fate, up went the back of the Duchess, and two
dismayed Bohemians and one impatient cat gazed at each other.

CHAPTER IX.

UNEXPECTED VISITORS.

"It must be Miss Kling, overpowered by curiosity!" murmured Nattie.

"No!" answered Cyn in a stage whisper, "the knock is too timid. Good
gracious! there it is again! Stand in front of the gas stove, Nat, lest
it be Mrs. Simonson, while I go and invent some excuse for not letting
in whoever it is