Becky made Rawdon dine out once or twice on business, while Pitt stayed with them, and the Baronet passed the happy evening alone with her and Briggs. She went downstairs to the kitchen and actually cooked little dishes for him. "Isn't it a good salmi?" she said; "I made it for you. I can make you better dishes than that, and will when you come to see me."
"Everything you do, you do well," said the Baronet gallantly. "The salmi is excellent indeed."
"A poor man's wife," Rebecca replied gaily, "must make herself useful, you know"; on which her brother-in-law vowed that "she was fit to be the wife of an Emperor, and that to be skilful in domestic duties was surely one of the most charming of woman's qualities." And Sir Pitt thought, with something like mortification, of Lady Jane at home, and of a certain pie which she had insisted on making, and serving to him at dinner--a most abominable pie.
Besides the salmi, which was made of Lord Steyne's pheasants from his lordship's cottage of Stillbrook, Becky gave her brother-in-law a bottle of white wine, some that Rawdon had brought with him from France, and had picked up for nothing, the little story-teller said; whereas the liquor was, in truth, some White Hermitage from the Marquis of Steyne's famous cellars, which brought fire into the Baronet's pallid cheeks and a glow into his feeble frame.

She made Rawdon dine out once or twice on business, so that Pitt passed the happy evening alone with her and Briggs. She actually cooked little dishes for him in the kitchen.
"Isn't it a good casserole?" she said.
"Everything you do, you do well," said the Baronet gallantly. "The casserole is excellent indeed."
"A poor man's wife must make herself useful," Rebecca replied gaily.
Her brother-in-law vowed that "skill in domestic duties was surely one of the most charming of woman's qualities." And Sir Pitt thought, with mortification, of a certain pie which Lady Jane had insisted on baking for him - a most abominable pie.
Besides the casserole, which was made of Lord Steyne's pheasants, Becky gave her brother-in-law a bottle of white wine; some that Rawdon had brought from France, and had picked up for nothing, the little story-teller said. In truth, it was White Hermitage from the Marquis of Steyne's famous cellars, which brought a glow into the Baronet's pallid cheeks.
