e
very cheerful! And that awful stove stared at me, and the kettle began
to hum, and Aunt Selina sent down word that she was not well, and would
like some omelet on her tray. Omelet!

I knew that it was made of eggs, but that was the extent of my
knowledge. I muttered an excuse and ran upstairs to Anne, but she was
still sniffling over her necklace, and said she didn't know anything
about omelets and didn't care. Food would choke her. Neither of the
Mercer girls knew either, and Bella, who was still reading in the den,
absolutely declined to help.

"I don't know, and I wouldn't tell you if I did. You can get yourself
out, as you got yourself in," she said nastily. "The simplest thing, if
you don't mind my suggesting it, is to poison the coffee and kill the
lot of us. Only, if you decide to do it, let me know; I want to live
just long enough to see Jimmy Wilson WRITHE!"

Bella is the kind of person who gets on one's nerves. She finds a
grievance and hugs it; she does ridiculous things and blames other
people. And she flirts.

I went downstairs despondently, and found that Mr. Harbison had
discovered some eggs and was standing helplessly staring at them.

"Omelet--eggs. Eggs--omelet. That's the extent of my knowledge," he
said, when I entered. "You'll have to come to my assistance."

It was then that I saw the cook book. It was lying on a shelf beside the
clock, and while Mr. Harbison had his back turned I got it down. It was
quite clear that the domestic type of woman was his ideal, and I did
not care to outrage his belief in me. So I took the cook book into the
pantry and read the recipe over three times. When I came back I knew it
by heart, although I did not understand it.

"I will tell you how," I said with a great deal of dignity, "and since
you want to help, you may make it yourself."

He was delighted.

"Fine!" he said. "Suppose you give me the idea first. Then we'll go over
it slowly, bit by bit. We'll make a big fluffy omelet, and if the others
aren't around, we'll eat it ourselves."

"Well," I said, trying to remember exactly, "you take two eggs--"

"Two!" he repeated. "Two eggs for ten people!"

"Don't interrupt me," I said irritably. "If--if two isn't enough we can
make several omelets, one after the other."

He looked at me with admiration.

"Who else but you would have thought of that!" he remarked. "Well, here
are two eggs. What next?"

"Separate them," I said easily. No, I didn't know w