on
my shoulder. Our leader was smiling.

"Cast your bread upon the waters," he said. "For you shall find it after
many days."

CHAPTER VII

HOW JONAH OBEYED HIS ORDERS, AND DAPHNE AND KATHARINE FESTIVAL BACKED
THE SAME HORSE.

Berry laid down his knife and fork and raised his eyes to heaven.

"This," he said, "is the frozen edge. I'm getting used to the distemper
which is brought me in lieu of soup, and, although I prefer salmon
cooked to raw, you may have noticed that I consumed my portion without a
word. But this...." Contemptuously he indicated the severed _tournedos_
upon his plate. "You know, they must have been using the lime-kiln.
Nobody could get such a withered effect with an electric cooker. Oh, and
look at our olive. Quick, before it shuts up."

Jill began to shake with laughter.

"I can't help it," said Daphne desperately. "I know it's awful, but what
can we do?"

"There must be some cooks somewhere," said I. "The breed isn't extinct.
And they can't all be irrevocably suited. I always thought the Cooks'
Brigade was one of the most mobile arms of domestic service."

"I've done everything," said my sister, "except advertise. Katharine
Festival put me off that. She says she spent seven pounds on
advertisements and never got a single answer. But I've done everything
else. I've asked everybody I know, my name's on the books of every
registry office I've ever heard of, and I've written and sent stamped
addressed envelopes to every cook whose name I've been given. Three out
of about sixty have replied, saying they were already suited. One came
here, practically said she'd come, and then wrote to say she was
frightened of the electric cooker. And another wanted a hundred a year
and a private bathroom. It's simply hopeless."

"If," said Berry, "we survive this meal, I'll write to Jonah and tell
him to bring one back with him. If he can't raise one in Paris, he ought
to be shot. And now let's have a sweep on the savoury. I'll bet it
tastes of paraffin and looks like a pre-War divvot."

"Let's try advertising," said Jill. "Katharine mayn't have had a good
one."

"I agree," said I. "I'll get one out to-night. A real snorter."

In silence the traces of the course which had provoked the outburst were
removed, clean plates were set before us, and the footman advanced with
a dish of nauseous-looking fritters.

Daphne instinctively recoiled.

"Hullo," said Berry. "Another gas attack?"

With an