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Updated: May 6, 2025
With Molly and Dolly and Hildeguard at his feet and herself and Michael and a dishwasher at his head they had managed to get him up the two short flights of stairs.
Every day she had Gaspard make, in addition to his regular table d'hôte menu, dozens of nutritive custards, quarts of stimulating broths and jellies and other dishes containing the maximum of easily digested and highly concentrated nutriment, and these she managed to have Molly or Dolly or even Hildeguard the Alma Tadema girl introduce into the luncheon or dinner service in the case of those patrons who seemed to need peculiarly careful nourishing.
"There's lots of complaints about the soup," Dolly said; "so many people don't like tomato in the heat. Gaspard, he always had a choice even if it wasn't down on the menu. I might deduct, say fifteen cents now, and slip it back to them with their change." "Please do," Nancy implored. "Tell Molly and Hildeguard." "Hilda would drop dead, but Molly'd like the fun of it." It was hot in the kitchen.
"I hope they will steal a great many of them," she thought, for her patrons were given to despoiling her flower vases in a way that scandalized the good Hildeguard, who was a just but ungenerous soul in spite of her ample proportions and popular qualities. Molly and Dolly were rather given to encouraging the vandals, knowing that they had Nancy's tacit approval.
She served Hildeguard and one of the other waitresses with more soup, and then began to boil some eggs to eke out the chicken, which, owing to her unprecedented generosity in the matter of portions, seemed to be diminishing with alarming rapidity.
Michael and Hildeguard, Molly and Dolly and two others of the staff of girls were grouped in the doorway exactly in Nancy's range of vision, and whispering to one another excitedly concerning the phenomenon that met their eyes. "The little girl?"
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