Miss Carter could scarcely believe her eyes; for Maude shrugged her shoulders and turned her head away, and upon her face there was an expression very like a pout. Now at last Maude was being young and silly, and it was all most thoroughly appreciated.
“There’s not much use my telling you anything!” she observed.
“You know it isn’t that,” said Jack.
They had both entirely forgotten Miss Carter. Maude looked coldly at the young man. Then her eyes fell, and a faint smile appeared on her lips.
“Yes, I do know,” she said.
Again she looked at him and he looked at her, and it was the most touching and absurd and beautiful look that Miss Carter had ever seen.
“I’ll have to go in and look after the dinner,” she murmured; but they didn’t even hear her.
She was in too much of a hurry, just then, to trouble her head about the mystery of this second Mr. Rhodes. It was enough for her to know that for Maude he was the right and only Mr. Rhodes; and therefore he must have a dinner such as had never been equaled. She flew about the kitchen like a little whirlwind, and presently enchanting odors began to float out from the oven and from the bubbling saucepans. She rushed down into the cellar, and brought up her best preserves. She rushed out to the ice box, and brought in a box of eggs, a crock of butter, a basket of peaches, and a bottle of cream. As she hurried about, she was inventing a dessert that should have freshly baked sponge cake and peaches and strawberry preserves and cream in it.
She had just begun to whip the cream when she was interrupted.
“Isn’t it a pretty hot afternoon for you to be doing all this?” asked a voice from the doorway.