ry queen. She was an epicurean caterer. Letitia's slate-pencil
coffee was ambrosia for the gods, sweetest nectar, by the side of the
dishwater that cook prepared. I began to feel quite proud of her. She
grew to be an adept in the art of boiling water. If we could have lived
on that fluid, everything would have moved clockworkily.

"I've discovered one thing," said Letitia on the evening of the third
day. "The girl is just a peasant, probably a worker in the fields. That
is why she is so ignorant."

I thought this reasoning foolish. "Even peasants eat, my dear," I
muttered. "She must have seen somebody cook something. Field-workers
have good appetites. If this woman ever ate, what did she eat and why
can't we have the same? We have asked her for no luxuries. We have
arrived at the stage, my poor girl, when all we need is, prosaically, to
'fill up.' You have given her opportunities to offer us samples of
peasant food. The result has been _nil_."

"It _is_ odd," Letitia declared, a wrinkle of perplexity appearing in
the smooth surface of her forehead. "Of course, she says she doesn't
understand me. And yet, Archie, I have talked to her in pure Swedish."

"I suppose you said, 'Pray give me a piece of venison,' from the
conversation book."

"Don't be ridiculous, Archie. I know the Swedish for cauliflower, green
peas, spinach, a leg of mutton, mustard, roast meat, soup, and--"

"'If the wind be favorable, we shall be at Gothenburg in forty hours,'"
I interrupted. She was silent, and I went on: "It seems a pity to end
your studies in Swedish, Letitia, but fascinating though they be, they
do not really necessitate our keeping this barbarian. You can always
pursue them, and exercise on me. I don't mind. Even with an American
cook, if such a being exist, you could still continue to ask for venison
steak in Swedish, and to look forward to arriving at Gothenburg in forty
hours."

Letitia declined to argue. My mood was that known as cranky. We were in
the drawing-room, after what we were compelled to call dinner. It had
consisted of steak burned to cinders, potatoes soaked to a pulp, and a
rice pudding that looked like a poultice the morning after, and possibly
tasted like one. Letitia had been shopping, and was therefore unable to
supervise. Our delicate repast was capped by "black" coffee of an
indefinite straw-color, and with globules of grease on the surface.
People who can feel elated with the joy of living, after a dinn