"To lend us her kitchen," Mirabel repeated.
"And what are we to do in the kitchen?"
Cecilia looked down at her pretty hands crossed on her lap, and answered softly, "Cook our own luncheon."
Here was an entirely new amusement, in the most attractive sense of the words! Here was charming Cecilia's interest in the pleasures of the table so happily inspired, that the grateful meeting offered its tribute of applause--even including Francine. The members of the council were young; their daring digestions contemplated without fear the prospect of eating their own amateur cookery. The one question that troubled them now was what they were to cook.
"I can make an omelet," Cecilia ventured to say.
"If there is any cold chicken to be had," Emily added, "I undertake to follow the omelet with a mayonnaise."
"There are clergymen in the Church of England who are even clever enough to fry potatoes," Mirabel announced--"and I am one of them. What shall we have next? A pudding? Miss de Sor, can you make a pudding?"
Francine exhibited another new side to her character--a diffident and humble side. "I am ashamed to say I don't know how to cook anything," she confessed; "you had better leave me out of it."