especially fine with coffee around mid-morning.—I should like to prepare something special for tomorrow evening,” he went on, giving Mr. Hill another biscuit, “but there’s a slight problem: I would have to ask the family not to have any drinks before dinner. The true flavor of the dish is completely distorted by the slightest taint of alcohol.”
Mr. Hill shrugged and reached for another biscuit. “That’s a very small price to pay for a delicious meal,” he allowed. “I’ve often thought that alcohol dulls the palate anyway . . .”
That night Conrad went to the Shepard’s Inn. He had taken Rudolph with him, who in no time at all lay sodden in a corner, his red livery collecting all the dirt from the floor.
During the course of the evening’s drinking someone told him that Brogg was looking for him.
Conrad laughed and bought the man a drink.
“He knows where to find me. That’s no problem.”
14
Conrad continued to send over two or three dinners a week to Daphne. He also sent a hot lunch to Mr. Hill every day at the mill, except when Mr. Hill lingered at home till noontime.
One morning Mrs. Hill came into the kitchen carrying the left-over breakfast things.
“You know,” she began, “how much Mrs. Vale appreciates what you’ve been doing. Daphne is no longer so lethargic, and Mrs. Vale attributes this entirely to the change of food; when Daphne eats what Brogg cooks for her two days in a row, she gets depressed and refuses to leave her room.”
Conrad answered that a change of diet was good for everyone.
Mrs. Hill agreed. “I have also told her that your kitchen account has shown no increase despite all the dishes you’ve sent to Daphne—and she replied that Brogg’s has shown no decrease. She’s quite annoyed with him.”
Conrad said flatly that Brogg was robbing her.
“Oh, I’m sure he is. I’ve told Mrs. Vale too.”
Conrad smiled.
“I’m just making some coffee for myself—would you care for a cup?”
Mrs. Hill said she would.
Conrad got out an extra cup and saucer.
And as he handed Mrs. Hill her coffee: “Why don’t we get a scale?” he suggested, in a slightly offhand way. “I’m sure I can find one in Cobb at a very reasonable price. Everyone should know what his weight is, and whether it’s remaining steady or going up or down. And when Miss Vale comes to stay with us—”
Mrs. Hill looked up from her coffee.
“Do you think it’s possible for Daphne to lose some weight?”
“Why not? If she’s fed properly.”
He went on after a moment, “And with a scale here, she can weigh herself several times a week. If she sees she’s losing she will get spirit and strive harder to lose still more. And if it appears that the entire household is weight-conscious, she won’t feel like a fish out of water. It will be like joining in a family game—in which everyone weighs himself and records the figure. Each person can have his own weight chart. If he doesn’t feel like revealing the figure he needn’t. That’s his business.”
Mrs. Hill was intrigued. “Let me see, we had our first snow last week, on Saturday. Daphne’s visit starts about a month after the first snow, when it’s on the ground permanently—it’s always been that way, since she was a child. The children always had so much fun playing in the snow together. She and Harold . . . And she will stay about two months . . . Conrad, do you think she can lose some weight in that time if she just eats your cooking? That’s not a very long time . . .” Mrs. Hill seemed to think that considering Daphne’s present size, it was no time at all.
*
“Certainly she can.”
“But wouldn’t it help,” Mrs. Hill pursued after a moment, “if she began sooner?”
“Of course.”
“What I mean, Conrad—suppose you sent dinner over to Daphne every night; then by the time she came here she would have some head start . . .”
Conrad smiled at the pleading look in Mrs. Hill’s eyes.
“Just what I
Mr. Hill shrugged and reached for another biscuit. “That’s a very small price to pay for a delicious meal,” he allowed. “I’ve often thought that alcohol dulls the palate anyway . . .”
That night Conrad went to the Shepard’s Inn. He had taken Rudolph with him, who in no time at all lay sodden in a corner, his red livery collecting all the dirt from the floor.
During the course of the evening’s drinking someone told him that Brogg was looking for him.
Conrad laughed and bought the man a drink.
“He knows where to find me. That’s no problem.”
14
Conrad continued to send over two or three dinners a week to Daphne. He also sent a hot lunch to Mr. Hill every day at the mill, except when Mr. Hill lingered at home till noontime.
One morning Mrs. Hill came into the kitchen carrying the left-over breakfast things.
“You know,” she began, “how much Mrs. Vale appreciates what you’ve been doing. Daphne is no longer so lethargic, and Mrs. Vale attributes this entirely to the change of food; when Daphne eats what Brogg cooks for her two days in a row, she gets depressed and refuses to leave her room.”
Conrad answered that a change of diet was good for everyone.
Mrs. Hill agreed. “I have also told her that your kitchen account has shown no increase despite all the dishes you’ve sent to Daphne—and she replied that Brogg’s has shown no decrease. She’s quite annoyed with him.”
Conrad said flatly that Brogg was robbing her.
“Oh, I’m sure he is. I’ve told Mrs. Vale too.”
Conrad smiled.
“I’m just making some coffee for myself—would you care for a cup?”
Mrs. Hill said she would.
Conrad got out an extra cup and saucer.
And as he handed Mrs. Hill her coffee: “Why don’t we get a scale?” he suggested, in a slightly offhand way. “I’m sure I can find one in Cobb at a very reasonable price. Everyone should know what his weight is, and whether it’s remaining steady or going up or down. And when Miss Vale comes to stay with us—”
Mrs. Hill looked up from her coffee.
“Do you think it’s possible for Daphne to lose some weight?”
“Why not? If she’s fed properly.”
He went on after a moment, “And with a scale here, she can weigh herself several times a week. If she sees she’s losing she will get spirit and strive harder to lose still more. And if it appears that the entire household is weight-conscious, she won’t feel like a fish out of water. It will be like joining in a family game—in which everyone weighs himself and records the figure. Each person can have his own weight chart. If he doesn’t feel like revealing the figure he needn’t. That’s his business.”
Mrs. Hill was intrigued. “Let me see, we had our first snow last week, on Saturday. Daphne’s visit starts about a month after the first snow, when it’s on the ground permanently—it’s always been that way, since she was a child. The children always had so much fun playing in the snow together. She and Harold . . . And she will stay about two months . . . Conrad, do you think she can lose some weight in that time if she just eats your cooking? That’s not a very long time . . .” Mrs. Hill seemed to think that considering Daphne’s present size, it was no time at all.
*
“Certainly she can.”
“But wouldn’t it help,” Mrs. Hill pursued after a moment, “if she began sooner?”
“Of course.”
“What I mean, Conrad—suppose you sent dinner over to Daphne every night; then by the time she came here she would have some head start . . .”
Conrad smiled at the pleading look in Mrs. Hill’s eyes.
“Just what I
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