said was the best ever, didn't produce some sort of definite result.
But, oh, how Allan would laugh at me!"

The book fell on the sand, unheeded. The brown eyes looked out past the
blue surges to some far Castle in Spain. Her thoughts refused to phrase
themselves in words, but her pulses leaped with the old, immortal joy.
The sun had risen high in the shining East before she returned to her
book.

"This isn't work," she sighed to herself; "away with the dreams."

Before long, she got out her note-book. "A fresh fish," she wrote, "does
not smell fishy and its eyes are bright and its gills red. A tender
chicken or turkey has a springy breast bone. If you push it down with
your finger, it springs back. A leg of lamb has to have the tough, outer
parchment-like skin taken off with a sharp knife. Some of the oil of the
wool is in it and makes it taste muttony and bad. A lobster should
always be bought when he is alive and green and boiled at home. Then you
know he is fresh. Save everything for soup."

[Sidenote: The Air of Knowing]

"I will go out into the kitchen," mused Eloise, "and I will have the air
of knowing all about everything. I will say: 'Mary Ann, I have ordered a
lobster for you to boil. We will have a salad for lunch. And I trust you
have saved everything that was left last night for to-night's soup.'
Mary Ann will be afraid of me, and Allan will be _so_ proud."

"'I thought I told you,' continued Eloise, to herself, 'to save all the
crumbs. Doctor Conrad does not like to have everything salt and he