"Be-autiful," came in a sleepy voice from against her arm, "is the water
cold?"

"Awful this morning," answered Caroline tightening her arms. "Just a
little hot, Phoebe, please! I'll tell Annette."

"No," answered Phoebe, as with a whirl of the covers she sat up and
took her knees into her embrace. "No, sweetie, in I go! The colder the
better after I'm in. How grand and Burne-Jonesy you look in that linen
pinafore--indulging in the life domestic? I think I catch a whiff of your
culinary atmosphere--and, oh, I--am so--hungry."

"Tempie has a dear little plump bird for you and some waffles and an
omelet. Let me have Annette bring them to you here! Please, Phoebe,
please!"

"Caroline Darrah Brown," said Phoebe in a tragic voice, "do you know I
gained a pound and a quarter last week and that makes me three and a half
pounds past the danger-mark? Two raw eggs and an orange is all I can have
this morning. I'm going to cry, I think!"

"No," answered Caroline Darrah positively, "you are going to eat that
bird and the omelet. You may substitute dry toast for the waffle if
Tempie will let you. She's angry, and I'm in trouble. She won't use
that recipe I got from your Mammy Kitty to make the cake I promised David
Kildare for tea. She says she and her family have been making Buchanan
cake ever since there was any cake and she is not going to begin now
making Donelson mixtures. I think I hurt her feelings. What must I do?"

"Let her alone, she has the right of it and the cake is sure to be just