Well, good-bye, little book, I have told you all my secrets for four weeks past now, and I will say good night. It's 6 P. M. and we are going to the Touraine for dinner as the cook got dopy, Pa says, and let the fire go out in the kitchen. Ma, poor dear, can't cook, so we are going out to dine and then to see some circus on Mars they have here. Pa says I must learn to cook if I want to keep Levey at home after we get married, and I am going to learn. I boiled some eggs for Pa the other morning when the cook went to market. I thought they would cook in three hours, most meats will, in that time, but Pa said, "Nay, nay, Pauline, make it three minutes," so I did. My Pa can cook, but he won't. He says it's the cook's work. Pa objects to doing other people's work for them; he says they must all do it some time, and why not begin here, now, so that's how we stand on the cook-book question.

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