When she reappeared, her own fresh, fair, and demure self, bearing her offering, Hugh looked at her approvingly.
“My life is just one tray after another,” he said.
The patient had just taken his last swallow when a sound of wheels was heard. Miss Frink’s victoria stopped before the gate, and that lady herself dismounted and came up the path. Colonel Duane hastened to meet her. Millicent stood up, holding the tray undecidedly, with an expression of face which seemed to be bracing for a coup de grace, and Hugh flung a long leg out of the hammock.
“Lie still, Hugh,” ordered the visitor, waving her parasol authoritatively.
Hugh withdrew the leg. Miss Frink had never walked up on that piazza before, although it was her own property. She looked around approvingly.
“You’ve made this place lovely, Colonel Duane.”
“Well, we think it is a good deal of a paradise this time of year.”
“So you overdid yourself,” said Miss Frink, seating herself in the offered chair by the hammock.
Colonel Duane lifted Millicent’s tray and carried it into the house, and the girl took a chair near the visitor.