"We do our own chores here, Doctor Haverill," she said. "Do you want to make yourself useful?" I rose promptly. Lessing had not yet appeared and my _tête-à-tête_ with his wife was not exhilarating. I followed her out into the kitchen, where she gave me a can-opener and a box of sardines. "Turn those out for me, please. And if you have any hygienic aversion to canned goods, smother it. We live on them here." "You find it far from the village?" She smiled, quizzically. "A good way. Besides, the tradespeople here aren't exactly genial. So we subsist on boxes from the city. It gives you all the real pleasure of a desert island without the risks. Put them on that plate, will you? You see, by the time the box arrives and gets hauled up from the station we've generally forgotten what we ordered, so there's all the excitement of discovery as well. This time it was olives. Do you realize the joy of unexpected olives in the wilderness?" "I'm going to." "That's the right spirit! Living in the country teaches one a becoming humility. There are more things to open. Perhaps it was a mistake to ask you out here, but in any case I could hardly have palmed off these peaches as grown in our own garden, because we haven't got one." She was standing at the table, drying crisp salad on a white cloth. The position showed me only her profile, with a little wave of bronze hair escaping near one ear. "Do you think gardening is worth the trouble?" "When things like this grow in every department store? Perhaps not. Good heavens, Doctor Haverhill, but you must _wash_ that can-opener! Give it to me!" I gazed at the jagged gash already achieved in the peach-can. "Don't tell anyone and they won't taste it!" "I thought bachelors knew how to do everything." "Sardines and peaches go excellently together," I maintained. "They call it _salade de fruits poissonnés_." Lessing lounged in. "I admire the way Mary sets you to work," he said. "She has a talent for being industrious by proxy. Here----" He pulled a parcel out of his pocket "I've brought your cheese, but I won't answer for the state of it." Miss Lessing cast a quick glance at me. "Where----?" "_Not_ at Johnson's. I don't know if my sister has explained to you, Doctor Haverhill, that we are a boycotted household? We find it quite amusing. It leads to a practice of expedience which is excellent training for the young. Mary has learned to make quite creditable bread already." "Out of the sawdust they pack the canned goods in," put in his sister promptly. "Carry that dish in without spilling it, Dick, and don't talk nonsense!" We sat down to one of the most cheerful meals four young people have ever enjoyed. I would except Mrs. Lessing, but that even her limp and monosyllabic presence failed to dampen our spirits. Afterwards Lessing made Turkish coffee over a spirit lamp while the two girls cleared the table, refusing my assistance high-handedly.