“Don’t know how?”

“You see, ma’am, the butcher, the grocer, everybody thinks I’m the only person in the house.  We’ve always traded with these same people, and I’ve stayed here alone now for fifteen summers, and they know I eat very little and care only for plain food.  And so to-day when I ordered all these things, they—­they grinned at me.  And the butcher said, ‘Living pretty high, while the missus is away.’”

Mrs. De Peyster had dropped her dessert spoon, and was staring at her confederate.  “I never thought about food!” she exclaimed in dismay.

“Nor did I, ma’am, till the butcher spoke.  And, besides, William received the goods, and—­and he smiled at me and said—­”

“It does look suspicious!” interrupted Mrs. De Peyster.

“I think it does, ma’am.”

“If you keep on having so much food sent in—­”

“And such high quality, ma’am.”

“Some one may suspect—­become curious—­and might find out—­might find out—­”

“That’s what I was thinking of, ma’am.”

Mrs. De Peyster had risen.

“Matilda, we cannot run that risk!”

“Perhaps—­perhaps, ma’am, we’d better change our butcher and grocer.”

“That would do no good, for the new ones would find out that there was supposed to be only a single person here, No, such ordering has got to be stopped!”

“If you can stand it, I think it would be safer, ma’am.  But what will you eat?”

There was a brief silence.  Mrs. De Peyster’s air grew almost tragic.

“Matilda, do you realize that you and I have got to live for the summer, for the entire summer, upon the amount you have been accustomed to ordering for yourself!”

“It looks that way, ma’am.”

The epicure in Mrs. De Peyster spoke out in a voice of even deeper poignancy.

“Two persons—­do you realize that, Matilda!—­two adult persons will have to live for three months upon the rations of one person!”

“And what’s worse,” added Matilda, “as I told you, I don’t eat much.  I’ve usually had just a little tea and now and then a chop.”

“A little tea and a chop!” Mrs. De Peyster looked as though she were going to faint.  “A little tea and a chop!...  For three months!...  Matilda!”

It seemed plain, however, that this was the only way out.  But standing over the remains of the last genuine meal she expected to taste until the summer’s end, her brow began slowly to clear.

“Matilda,” she said after a moment, in a rebuking tone, “I’m surprised you did not see the solution to this!”

“Is there one, ma’am?  What is it?”

“You are so fixed in the habit of sending your orders to the tradespeople that your mind cannot conceive of any other procedure.  You are to go out in person, at night, if you like, to shops where you are not known, pay cash for whatever you want, and carry your purchases home with you.  It is really extremely simple.”