vi

"Soup?" said Keith, and laid before her a steaming plate. "All done by
kindness."

"Have you been cooking?" Some impulse made Jenny motherly. It seemed a
strange reversal of the true order that he should cook for her. "It's
like _The White Cat_ to have it...."

"It's a secret," Keith laughed. "Tell you later. Fire away!" He tasted
the soup, while Jenny looked at five little letter biscuits in her own
plate. She spelt them out E T K I H--KEITH. He watched her, enjoying the
spectacle of the naïve mind in action as the light darted into her face.
"I've got JENNY," he said, embarrassed. She craned, and read the letters
with open eyes of marvel. They both beamed afresh at the primitive
fancy.

"How did you do it?" Jenny asked inquisitively. "But it's nice." They
supped the soup. Followed, whitebait: thousands of little fish.... Jenny
hardly liked to crunch them. Keith whipped away the plates, and dived
back into the cabin with a huge pie that made her gasp. "My gracious!"
said Jenny. "I can never eat it!"

"Not _all_ of it," Keith admitted. "Just a bit, eh?" He carved.

"Oh, thank goodness it's not stew and bread and butter pudding!" cried
Jenny, as the first mouthful of the pie made her shut her eyes tightly.
"It's like heaven!"