ke de bread, and boil de
puddin', and rost de meat, I'm say to myself, many time, 'Ovide, you
can do little easy ting like dat, just so well as she can.' I'm ax my
mudder, too, many time to let me try and mak de dinner, but she laugh
loud and say, 'Ovide, you just lak all de boys and lots of men too,
for dey all tink dat it's just so easy for de woman to cook de food as
it is for dem to eat it.' And den she laugh some more, and say dat all
de men tink dat what de womans do is noting at all."

As he paused, I had no small difficulty in preserving the severity of
my countenance, owing to certain recollections of thoughts I had
indulged in when a boy--and, I must admit, a pretty big one, too--when
I had sat and watched my mother cook. From the way Fielding, at the
other end of the car, put his hands into his pockets, I got the
impression that conscience was hard at work with him, too.

"Even after I'm be away from home all dese years," continued Ovide,
"I'm still have dat feeling dat I can cook just so well as she can;
and so when I'm come into de car to-day and hear Mr. Fielding say dat
he want cook, and say dat he will give a souvenir, and when I'm see,
too, dat engine-driver man Robbin, dare, dat I'm not lak at all, and
who I tink not know how for cook and yet going for get de job--I'm
just tink dat a good chance she's come for me to please de bosses and
make somethin' good for myself, and so I'm come straight out, and say
I'm de best man for de job. And dat's all de truth."

He had been slowly edging his way to the passage leading to the door,
and as he reached it he continued regretfully, "If I'm only not forget
to freeze out dat turkey before I'm put her in de oven, and tink too
not to put nearly cupful bakin' powder in de puddin', everyting she's
be all right den, sure." As he concluded he turned abruptly down the
passage, and fled out of our car into the baggage-car, with Robbins'
rasping cough in his ears.

* * * * *

Half an hour later, thanks to old Robbins' skill, we sat down to
fried turkey, boiled potatoes, bread and butter, and tea.

The great French-Canadian cook gladly ate his portion of the banquet
in the baggage-car, for no amount of persuasion could make him come to
the table with us.

Twelve hours later we reached our homes.

On New Year's Day, a bulky blue envelope was handed to Ovide. As it
bore the stamp of the General Manager's office, he opened it with fear