r when she carries in the tray. Her mien
is festal, yet in her smile there is a certain gravity, as though she
performed an office which honoured her. She has dressed for the evening;
that is to say, her clean and seemly attire of working hours is exchanged
for garments suitable to fireside leisure; her cheeks are warm, for she
has been making fragrant toast. Quickly her eye glances about my room,
but only to have the pleasure of noting that all is in order;
inconceivable that anything serious should need doing at this hour of the
day. She brings the little table within the glow of the hearth, so that
I can help myself without changing my easy position. If she speaks, it
will only be a pleasant word or two; should she have anything important
to say, the moment will be _after_ tea, not before it; this she knows by
instinct. Perchance she may just stoop to sweep back a cinder which has
fallen since, in my absence, she looked after the fire; it is done
quickly and silently. Then, still smiling, she withdraws, and I know
that she is going to enjoy her own tea, her own toast, in the warm,
comfortable, sweet-smelling kitchen.

VII.

One has heard much condemnation of the English kitchen. Our typical cook
is spoken of as a gross, unimaginative creature, capable only of roasting
or seething. Our table is said to be such as would weary or revolt any
but gobbet-bolting carnivores. We are told that our bread is the worst
in Europe, an indigestible paste; that our vegetables are diet rather for
the hungry animal than for discriminative man; that our warm beverages,
called coffee and tea, are so carelessly or ignorantly brewed that they
preserve no simple virtue of the drink as it is known in other lands. To
be sure, there is no lack of evidence to explain such censure. The class
which provides our servants is undeniably coarse and stupid, and its
handiwork of every kind too often bears the native stamp. For all that,
English victuals are, in quality, the best in the world, and English
cookery is the wholesomest and the most appetizing known to any temperate
clime.

As in so many other of our good points, we have achieved this thing
unconsciously. Your ordinary Englishwoman engaged in cooking probably
has no other thought than to make the food masticable; but reflect on the
results, when the thing is well done, and there appears a culinary
principle. Nothing could be simpler, yet nothing more right and
reason