s (a mush of
sogginess), tomatoes (canned, and slightly burned), corn (canned, and
very much burned), lettuce (plain); and for dessert, preserved peaches
and cake (the latter rather dry and stale). Such was Billy's dinner.

The grapefruit everybody ate. The cold lamb too, met with a hearty
reception, especially after the potatoes, corn, and tomatoes were
served--and tasted. Outwardly, through it all, Billy was gayety itself.
Inwardly she was burning up with anger and mortification. And because
she was all this, there was, apparently, no limit to her laughter and
sparkling repartee as she talked with Calderwell, her guest--the guest
who, according to her original plans, was to be shown how happy she and
Bertram were, what a good wife she made, and how devoted and _satisfied_
Bertram was in his home.

William, picking at his dinner--as only a hungry man can pick at a
dinner that is uneatable--watched Billy with a puzzled, uneasy frown.
Bertram, choking over the few mouthfuls he ate, marked his wife's
animated face and Calderwell's absorbed attention, and settled into
gloomy silence.

But it could not continue forever. The preserved peaches were eaten at
last, and the stale cake left. (Billy had forgotten the coffee--which
was just as well, perhaps.) Then the four trailed up-stairs to the
drawing-room.

At nine o'clock an anxious Eliza and a remorseful, apologetic Pete
came home and descended to the horror the once orderly kitchen
and dining-room had become. At ten, Calderwell, with very evident
reluctance, tore himself away from Billy's gay badinage, and said good
night. At two minutes past ten, an exhausted, nerve-racked Billy was
trying to cry on the shoulders of both Uncle William and Bertram at
once.

"There, there, child, don't! It went off all right," patted Uncle
William.

"Billy, darling," pleaded Bertram, "please don't cry so! As if I'd ever
let you step foot in that kitchen again!"

At this Billy raised a tear-wet face, aflame with indignant
determination.

"As if I'd ever let you keep me _from_ it, Bertram Henshaw, after this!"
she contested. "I'm not going to do another thing in all my life but
_cook!_ When I think of the stuff we had to eat, after all the time I
took to get it, I'm simply crazy! Do you think I'd run the risk of such
a thing as this ever happening again?"

CHAPTER XI. CALDERWELL DOES SOME QUESTIONING

On the day after his dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Bertram Henshaw, Hugh
Ca