She simply could not eat the consomme.
"It tathteth to me like thoap," declared Tommy.
"I believe it is soap," spoke up Patricia Scott. "How perfectly
frightful!"
"I am afraid, Miss Burrell," said Mrs. Livingston, "that you have lost the
'honor' for this season. This consomme seems to be a dismal failure. This
of course does not preclude you from taking up some other branch of
cookery and winning an 'honor'."
Harriet was on the verge of tears, but she held herself under good
control. Her humiliation was apparent only in her flaming cheeks and
almost imperceptible beads of perspiration that stood out on her forehead.
"This is a matter that must be looked into, Harriet," said the Chief
Guardian. "Young ladies, eat no more of the soup. There is something
seriously wrong with it. It tastes like soap to me, too; I am free to
admit that. I hope no one has been playing pranks," fixing a keen glance
on Harriet's face.
"Oh, Mrs. Livingston," cried Harriet, shocked almost beyond words.
"I am not accusing you of any such thing, my dear," explained the Chief
Guardian. "You would be unlikely to play pranks and lose your 'honor'
mark. The guardians will please accompany me to the kitchen. Young ladies,
you will proceed with your dinner. Upon second thought, Miss Partridge and
Miss Elting will accompany me.
Pages:
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164