declares, severely, that she is going to hide the Green
Cook Book. The Green Cook Book is a German one. Norah
bought it in deference to Max's love of German cookery.
It is called Aunt Julchen's cook book, and the author,
between hints as to flour and butter, gets delightfully
chummy with her pupil. Her cakes are proud, rich cakes.
She orders grandly:

"Now throw in the yolks of twelve eggs; one-fourth of
a pound of almonds; two pounds of raisins; a pound of
citron; a pound of orange-peel."

As if that were not enough, there follow minor
instructions as to trifles like ounces of walnut meats,
pounds of confectioner's sugar, and pints of very rich
cream. When cold, to be frosted with an icing made up of
more eggs, more nuts, more cream, more everything.

The children have appointed themselves official
lickers and scrapers of the spoons and icing pans, also
official guides on their auntie's walks. They regard
their Aunt Dawn as a quite ridiculous but altogether
delightful old thing.

And Norah--bless her! looks up when I come in from a
romp with the Spalpeens and says: "Your cheeks are pink!
Actually! And you're losing a puff there at the back of
your ear, and your hat's on crooked. Oh, you are
beginning to look your old self, Dawn dear!"