There were tears in Mrs. Ware's eyes as she returned the impulsive kiss. She had expected to be fond of Elizabeth's only daughter. She had hoped to find her pretty and sweet, but she had not looked for this winsomeness, which had been the Little Colonel's greatest charm since babyhood. With that greeting, Lloyd walked straight into her heart.
The surprise ended more satisfactorily than most surprises do, for, while Jack was unhitching the horse, and Mrs. Ware was talking over old times with Mr. Sherman, whom she had known in her school-days, some one went whizzing around the house on a bicycle.
"It's Jo, the Japanese chef from the ranch," said Joyce, springing up from the front door-step where she sat with Lloyd, and starting back to the kitchen to ask his errand.
"Oh, let me go, too," cried Lloyd, following. "I nevah saw a Jap close enough to speak to."
Lloyd could not understand the pigeon-English with which he delivered a basket he had brought, but it was evidently a funny proceeding to Jo. He handed it over as if it had been a joke, doubling up like a jack-knife as he pointed to the contents, and laughing so contagiously that Joyce and Lloyd could not help laughing, too.
"He not velly nice pie, maybe," giggled Jo. "But you eat him allee same. Mis' Lee say you not lookee for comp'nee. You not have nuzzing cook."
"Did Mrs. Lee tell you to bring the basket, Jo?" asked Joyce.
He shook his head. "Mis' Lee say take soup," pointing to the large glass jar of clearest consommé, smoking hot, which Joyce had just lifted from the basket. "I, me, bling along the pie, for my compliment. She no care. She kind, Clistian lady."
"She certainly is," laughed Joyce. "Now we can at least begin and end our dinner in style. That's a lovely pie, Jo; the prettiest I ever saw."