h the lid-lifter), one cupboard with
panes of tin pierced in rosettes, and one stack of dirty dishes.

But the Gilson kitchen had the efficiency of a laboratory and the
superciliousness of a hair-dresser's booth. With awe Milt beheld walls
of white tiles, a cork floor, a gas-range large as a hotel-stove, a
ceiling-high refrigerator of enamel and nickel, zinc-topped tables, and
a case of utensils like a surgeon's knives. It frightened him; it made
more hopelessly unapproachable than ever the Alexandrian luxury of the
great Gilsons.... The Vanderbilts' kitchen must be like this. And maybe
King George's.

He was viewing the kitchen upon the occasion of an intimate Sunday
evening supper to which he had been yearningly invited by Mrs. Gilson.
The maids were all out. The Gilsons and Claire, Milt and Jeff Saxton,
shoutingly prepared their own supper. While Mrs. Gilson scrambled eggs
and made coffee, the others set the table, and brought cold ham and a
bowl of salad from the ice-box.

Milt had intended to be a silent but deft servitor. When he had heard
that he was to come to supper with the returned Mr. Geoffrey Saxton, he
had first been panic-shaken, then resolved. He'd "let old iron-face
Saxton do the high and mighty. Let him stand around and show off his
clothes and adjectives, way he did at Flathead Lake." But he, Milt,
would be "on the job." He'd help get supper, and calmly ignore Jeff's
rudeness.

Only--Jeff wasn't rude. He greeted Milt with, "Ah, Daggett! This is _so_
nice!" And Milt had no chance to help. It was Jeff who anticipated him
and with a pleasant, "Let me get that--I'm kitchen-broke," snatched up
the cold ham and salad. It was Jeff who found the supper plates, while
Milt was blunderingly wondering how any one family could use a "whole
furniture-store-full of different kinds of china." It was Jeff who
sprang to help Claire wheel in the tea-wagon, and so captured the chance
to speak to her for which Milt had been maneuvering these five minutes.

When they were settled, Jeff glowed at him, and respectfully offered, "I
thought of you so often, Daggett, on a recent little jaunt of mine.
You'd have been helpful."

"Where was that?" asked Milt suspiciously (wondering, and waiting to
see, whether you could take cold ham in your fingers).

"Oh, in Alaska."

"In--Alaska?" Milt was dismayed.

"Yes, just a business trip there. There's something I wish you'd advise
me about."

He was humble. And Milt was unea