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.