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'I want to tell you about the servants,' said Elizabeth. 'I can't do
anything unless you help me.'
'Help you in what?' said Desmond, wondering.
'Well, you know, it's simply scandalous what you're all eating in
this house!' exclaimed Elizabeth, with sudden energy. 'You ought to
be fined.' She frowned, and her fair Dutch complexion became a
bright pink.
'It's quite true,' said Pamela, startled. 'I told father, and he
laughed at me.'
'But now even the servants are on strike,' said Elizabeth. 'It's
Forest that's been preaching to them. He and Cook have been drawing
up a week's _menu_, according to the proper scale. But--'
'Father won't have it,' said Pamela decidedly.
'An idea has occurred to me,' was Elizabeth's apologetic reply.
'Your father doesn't come in to lunch?'
'Happy thought!' cried Desmond. 'Send him in a Ritz luncheon, while
the rest of you starve. Easy enough for me to say as I'm off--and
soldiers aren't rationed! We may be as greedy pigs as we like.'
'What do you say?' Elizabeth looked at Pamela.


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