She had only time to slip from his arms when Mrs. Davenant entered.
“What do you say to punctuality, ma’am?” he exclaimed, triumphantly, as he gave her his arm and lead her into the dining-room.
Jack was a favorite, for all his wickedness, wherever he went. It was no sooner known that he was to dine in the house, that the cook awoke to instant energy and enthusiasm.
“Master Jack’s a gentleman worth cooking a dinner for,” she declared. “It’s a waste of time to worry yourself for women folk; they don’t know a good dinner from a bad one; but Master Jack—oh, that’s a different thing! He knows what clear soup ought to be; and he shall have it right, too.”
Mrs. Davenant herself was surprised at the elaborate little dinner.
“I wish you’d dine with us every day, my dear Jack,” she said.
Jack glanced demurely at Una, in time to catch the sparkle in her dark eyes.
“I’m afraid you’d soon get tired of me,” he said. “But, seriously, I should improve the cooking; not this day’s, I mean, but the usual ones. You’ve got a treasure of a cook, ma’am.”
And, of course, this was carried down by Mary to the empress of the kitchen, and her majesty was rewarded for all her trouble.
“What did I tell you?” she demanded. “Master Jack knows.”