"It is considerable," Cyn confessed, surveying the array with a slightly daunted expression. "You see I am not used to buying for a family, and I was afraid of getting too little. But," brightening, "there isn't more than one quart of the tomatoes, and there are _three_ of us, you know--the Duchess!" "To be sure; I had forgotten her!" Nattie said, recovering her equanimity, and glancing at the purring animal, who was looking on approvingly, and evidently appreciated the difference between sirloin and her usual rations of round. "Then let the revels commence, at once!" cried Cyn, rolling down her sleeves, while Nattie wiped the smut from her face. But now another difficulty presented itself; the chairs were all too low to admit of feasting with the anticipated rapture; this was soon overcome, however, by piling a few books in the highest chair, and appropriating the music-stool. "Now for a feast," exclaimed Nattie, exultantly, as they sat down triumphant, and she brandished her very big knife and extremely small fork, while Cyn poured the coffee from the--urn; an undertaking attended with some difficulty, and requiring caution; and the Duchess looked on expectantly. And then--the goal almost reached--upon their startled ears came a dreadful sound--the sound of a knock at the door! Down to the ground went Nattie's knife and fork, the coffee-urn narrowly escaped a similar fate, up went the back of the Duchess, and two dismayed Bohemians and one impatient cat gazed at each other. CHAPTER IX. UNEXPECTED VISITORS. "It must be Miss Kling, overpowered by curiosity!" murmured Nattie. "No!" answered Cyn in a stage whisper, "the knock is too timid. Good gracious! there it is again! Stand in front of the gas stove, Nat, lest it be Mrs. Simonson, while I go and invent some excuse for not letting in whoever it is." And having given these hasty directions, Cyn opened the door the smallest possible crack. As she did so, and before she could speak, it was pushed back violently, almost knocking her over, and in burst Quimby. This, however, might not have much disconcerted them, as _he_ could have been disposed of easily enough, had not at his heels came a tall, fine-looking young man, a perfect stranger to both Cyn and Nattie. "You see I keep my word!" was the enigmatical remark the smiling Quimby made as he entered. Then, catching sight of the festive board, he stopped short and stared, with an utterly confounded face, at that, at the embarrassed Nattie, at Cyn, behind the door, and at the saucepan cover, which, embellished with potato parings, occupied a prominent position in the middle of the floor. His companion also paused, a surprised and amused smile lurking in his merry brown eyes as he looked at Nattie, seemingly regardless of anything else in the room.