e one of
the gay little crowd in the Rue Brea and so grateful to Mrs. Brown for
taking her into her fold, that it made all of them glad to have her.

"Isn't it splendid to be able to loosen up and undress for dinner? It is
especially fine when the dinner is so delicious," exclaimed Elise. "I am
going to learn how to cook, if Molly will help me. Mamma never would let
me go near the kitchen, and do you know I have never even seen any
uncooked food except in shop windows and don't know a raw beefsteak from
an old boot leg?"

"Papa says a French chef can cook up a boot leg with a sauce surprise
that you couldn't for the life of you tell from the finest kind of
steak. Now this roast chicken is the best I have ever tasted, with a
gravy that has the squawk of the wild duck and the coo of a pigeon
and----" but here Judy stopped to help herself plentifully to the
wonderful gravy and Molly finished out her speech for her:

"And the gobble of a turkey; and what attribute of the goose?"

The table in the studio, with its bowl of chrysanthemums, strips of
Japanese toweling in lieu of a cloth, and odd blue china was very
attractive. The china was odd in two senses of the word, as not a single
saucer matched its cup and no two plates were of the same size. But what
mattered that? Was not the coffee in the cups of the hottest and
clearest and strongest? Was not the chicken and gravy, on the
miscellaneous plates, food for the gods? Was not the rice, _a la New
Orleans_, a marvel of culinary skill? Where but in Paris could one find
such crusty bread and delicious butter? The _salade Romaine_ was crisp
and fresh and Judy had made the salad dressing. It was her one
accomplishment in the way of preparing food. She did it in great style
and was always much hurt if any one else was given her job.

"Judy reminds me of Garrick and ought to make the dressing, anyhow,"
said Molly. "You remember what Sydney Smith said of him: 'Our Garrick's
a salad, for in him we see, oil, vinegar, pepper, and mustard agree.'"

"Do you know the Spanish recipe for salad dressing?" asked Elise. "'A
spendthrift for oil; a niggard for vinegar; a sane man for salt and a
maniac for beating it.'"

Judy was proving her suitability by beating so vigorously and clicking
so loudly with the fork, that a gentle knock on the door had to be
sharply repeated before they were sure of it. There was a general
scramble from the kimonoed crowd, who were not expecting a visitor a