"You can't beg off. I must have you to help me navigate things to the table. I have agreed to act as assistant cook and head waitress, and I want you as second butler." And she unfolded the details of her plan.
Late one afternoon, a week afterwards, a trim maid in cap and apron was peering out from between the curtains of Mrs. Farrington's front window. Allyn was beside her, and both the young faces wore an air of merry mystery, while there was an evident good-fellowship between them that was out of all harmony with their seeming difference in social rank.
"Oh, Allyn, say a prayer for the success of the salad!" the maid said wearily, as she settled her cap and pulled out the great bows of her apron strings.
"'Twill be all right. I sampled the dressing, as I came in. Isn't it time they were here?"
"Unless the train is late. Poor Cousin Ted! She has worked all the morning. I do hope things will be good."
"Cis!"
"Yes, Cousin Will."
"Do you happen to know where Ted keeps her keys? I want to get something out of that box of old trumpery of mine in the attic, and the thing is locked."
"I'll see if I can find them." And Cicely vanished, followed by a cry from Allyn,—
"Here they are, Cis, and here he is! Great Caesar, what a pelican of the wilderness! Poor Ted! She can't live up to such a man."