It was rather difficult to work at the side table, which was small and
decidedly rickety; but Rhoda made no objection. She found her eyes
wandering now and then to Rose, who had gone back to her pastry, and was
spending many puzzled glances on the cookery book that was propped open
before her.

"I mean to write a cookery book one day," she exclaimed presently, in a
tone of deep disgust. "And I mean to use simple language, and explain
everything. I can't understand this book a bit."

Rhoda was on the point of offering her help, when the door was hastily
opened and Pauline came in, with a bunch of daffodils in her hand. She
raised her eyebrows at the sight of the pastry board.

"My darling Rose! Suppose Lady Desborough were to come back with Clare,
what would she think?"

"It was so hot in the kitchen, Pauline," Rose answered meekly. "And I do
so want to learn how to cook. Mrs. Richards' pastry is like leather. Just
look here. This book says"--

But Pauline laughingly put it from her. "My dear child, it is worse than
Greek to me. And I really do object to see lumps of raw dough about.
Please take them away. I never like to think of my food till I see it on
the table. Good-morning, Miss Sampson. When you have finished those
letters you will not be required any more. I will pay you before you go.
Miss Desborough has gone out with Lady Desborough."

Clare had left a kind message for Rhoda, and when Pauline went into the