"Ain't this a good house?"
"It was, Madame; and I was proud to serve you until the house was turned into an orphan asylum, a—a—home for children of the street, and—"
Drusilla flushed suddenly.
"That'll do, cook. I've heard all I want. Perhaps you're a great cook, but when you cook for me you'll cook for whoever is under my roof. And I want you to understand that this is not an orphan asylum. These children are my visitors; and so long as they're in my house, they'll eat, and if you don't want to cook for them, well—you can cook for some one else. You can go, cook. Mr. Thornton'll give you your money."
And Drusilla sat down a very angry and ruffled Drusilla.
"Orphan asylum, indeed! He'll be callin' it a home next. What does anybody want with a man in the kitchen—especially a man who's got more hair under his nose than on his head!"
She was quiet for a while; then she laughed softly to herself.
"The Lord takes care of his own. Now I been wondering all day how to get that man here, and here's my chance. Jane, tell some one to telephone Mr. Thornton's brother to stop here on his way from the office. I want to speak to him particularly."
It was nearly six o'clock before the lawyer's motor stopped before Drusilla's door. When the lawyer came in Drusilla said to herself, "I don't blame his girl none. He's worse'n his brother;" but she turned smilingly to him.
"I'm afraid that I've called you in on business that'll seem mighty little to a man," she said; "but it's big to a woman. I'm changin' cooks."