Shall we say, let everyone
care for his or her own room--"
"There are also the little matters of washing, and ironing, and
cleaning," Ricky broke in to remind him.
"And we're down to fifty a month in hard cash. But the tenant farmer on
the other side of the bayou is to supply us with fresh fruit and
vegetables. And our wardrobes are fairly intact. So I think that we can
afford to hire the washing done. We'll take turns cooking--"
"Who's elected to do the poisoning first?" Val inquired with interest.
"I trust we possess a good cook-book?"
"Well, I'll take breakfast tomorrow morning," Rupert volunteered.
"Anyone can boil coffee and toast bread. As for dishes, we'll all pitch
in together. And suppose we start right now."
When the dishes were back again in their neat piles on the cupboard
shelves, Ricky vanished upstairs, to come trailing down again in a
house-coat which she fondly imagined made her look like one of the
better-known screen sirens. The family gathered in an aimless way before
the empty fireplace of the Long Hall. Rupert was filling a black pipe
which allowed him to resemble--in very slight degree, decided Val--an
explorer in an English tobacco advertisement. Val himself was stretched
full length on the couch with about ten pounds of cat attempting to rest
on his center section in spite of his firm refusal to allow the same.
"Br-r-r!" Ricky shivered.
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