“Didn’t I look nice last night?” asked the girl with unexpected gravity.
“I should say so. Quite the up-to-date girl, standing there with Miss Frink in her august dignity.”
“Grandpa, here comes Mr. Ogden.”
Colonel Duane rose as the caller opened the gate, and came to the head of the steps to meet him.
“Don’t you move now, Miss Millicent,” said Ogden as the girl started to put aside the big pan. “You make the most charming domestic picture.”
“I can’t shake hands,” she returned, as he approached, and her cheeks matched the gay hue of her apron while her eyes welcomed him.
“This is my P.P.C.” he remarked, taking the chair Colonel Duane offered.
“Oh, are you leaving us?” asked the old gentleman, returning to his calico cushion. “I don’t know what they’ll do without you at Miss Frink’s. That was a great treat she gave us last night. We haven’t talked about anything else this morning; and your announcements, and the general pleasant informality with which you managed the occasion, gave it the last touch of charm. How is that delightful, bright particular star, this morning?”
“Mrs. Lumbard? I haven’t seen her. She didn’t come down to breakfast.”