"Oh, Ted, what a lot of breath you do waste!" ejaculated Nell. She spoke heartily, because she felt that if he went away, she would be shamed forever; but she was still cross, and inclined to make molehills into mountains. She took her place at the table and watched Denis moodily as he peered into the dish before him. "I say, Sheila Pat, fetch me the fairy spectacles of Karring Glen! I’ll need ’em! Bothered if my own unaided mortal eyes can find any meat or snails or puppy-dogs’ tails here!" "It’s curried chicken," said Nell, austerely. "_Thanks_, my dear! But are you sure ’tisn’t curried rice?" "I’m in luck," Ted observed quietly; "I adore rice." "Glad to hear it, old man! It’s pretty well all you’ll get to-day. Sarah, are you trying to starve your youthful charges?" "It is my fault; I said it would do," Nell said clearly. "How awfully nice of you," Ted cut in; "you must have known I was coming along." "Denis, I don’t want any chicken—only rice, please." "You’ve got to have it, anyway." "I don’t _want_ it!" "Leave it, then." She knew that tone. She frowned and bit her lip, but rather than make more fuss, she gave in. "No one’s cut any bread," observed Molly. Ted seized the loaf. Nell glanced at him, saw his face was red and puzzled, looked at the loaf, which wore a somewhat grimy and cindery appearance, leant forward, and gave it a squeeze. Then suddenly she began to laugh and laugh: "Oh—it’s an experiment!" she gasped. "I’m—afraid—it isn’t—a success!" Ted was smiling amusedly. Denis seized the loaf. "Great Scott, it’s as hard as stone! Shake her, Ted, shake the explanation out of her!" "I—I told Sarah—to wet it and put it in the oven—to make it new! O dear!" He rang the bell. "You might experiment on lump sugar next time, old girl, ’twon’t affect me, you see!" "The rest’s all the same, miss! I did it all at once just as you told me to, and you said as I wasn’t to horder any more till the stale was used up—" "All right, Sarah," Denis broke in impatiently; "go to the nearest baker’s, and get a loaf at once." "Mistress won’t ’ave nothink to do with Brown, sir; she says they give short weight—" "Then go to Smith or Robinson’s!" he shouted impatiently. "I don’t know either of them, sir, if you’ll hexcuse me—" "Go to the next nearest to Brown’s, Sarah," he said in a gentle, lamblike voice. "Yessir. I ’aven’t any money." He found a sixpence and handed it to her with a bow. Ted was calmly eating his lunch. "Servants," observed Denis, "are born without brains, and with the bump of unconscious aggravation dumped in the place where the brains ought to be."