On this occasion, therefore, she fairly outdid herself, and when it accompanied a very English-looking joint to the table, Lady Pendered’s delight knew no bounds.
“Yorkshire pudding!” she exclaimed. “Ah, Miranda, you have an English cook.”
As Mrs. Lennox was but very slightly acquainted with her cooks, she felt a trifle uncertain as to their nationality. But she was not easily disconcerted, and, turning to Jessie, she said indifferently:
“My head cook is English, is she not?”
“Yes, madam,” replied Jessie; “Hester is English.”
“And my assistant cook, what is her name?”
But the sound of her own voice had been too much for Jessie, and her wits deserted her entirely. In a half-dazed way she realized that Mrs. Lennox was asking her to name Marjorie, and, quite without her own volition, she replied mechanically:
“The Duchess, madam.”
“What!” cried Lady Pendered, raising her eye-glass to look at the luckless Jessie.
But Betty came quickly to the rescue.