when they ain't--aren't too high, and pie when we hev it."

Some vague instinct of the fitness of things warned her that this would
not be a suitable repast for Derry. Then a light shone through her
darkness.

"I'll telephone Miss Vail," she decided.

So she called up her teacher at the Guild, and explained the situation.
She received full instructions, made her purchases, and went back to the
studio.

At one o'clock she again garbed herself in cap and apron and called
Derry to a luncheon which consisted of bouillon, chops, French peas,
rolls, a salad, and black tea served with lemon.

"Amarilly," he announced solemnly, "you are surely the reincarnation of
a chef. You are immediately promoted from housemaid to housekeeper with
full charge over my cuisine, and your wages doubled."

"And that's going some for one day!" Amarilly gleefully announced to the
family circle that night.

Her teacher, greatly interested and gratified at her pupil's ability to
put her instruction to practical use and profit, made out on each Monday
a menu for the entire week. She also gave her special coaching in
setting table and serving, so Derry's domestic life became a thing of
pride to himself and his coterie of artists. He gave little luncheons
and studio teas in his apartments, Amarilly achieving great success in
her double role of cook and waitress.