drawing-room. He is reported extremely wealthy.

Upon returning from a drive on the Pleasantville road with Señor
Delmonte, Ida ran down to the kitchen for a moment, to see if harmony
reigned there (for Lina and Minna are not, I regret to say, becoming
warm friends; but more of that to-morrow). Ida rarely troubles the
cook with her presence, for Lina, like all _cordons bleus_, is a great
despot, and impatient of _surveillance_; but as she can be trusted to
arrange an entire _menu_ without any hints from Ida, la Dame Châtelaine
gladly leaves the responsibility to her. What therefore was my
surprise to see Ida return from her visit downstairs with an
unmistakable look of anxiety upon her pretty face, and beckon me out of
the music room where we were sitting.

"What _do_ you think, Cecilia?" she announced, in despairing accents.
"Lina has made a soup of sour cream, which is now reposing in the
ice-box!"

"Of _what_?" I said, scarcely crediting her words, and running down to
the kitchen.

Lina's feelings were considerably ruffled that her young mistress did
not appreciate the soup, which she considered a triumph of art, and
which consisted of sour cream, spices, and a little sugar--to be eaten,
of course, cold.

"Nice soup," she said, in the most injured tones; "King of Sweden think
excellent, but Miss no like it."

It was, however, too late to make another soup, so we consoled