When Dora came downstairs arrayed in her proper costume, Ralph thought her a great deal prettier than when she wore the pink chintz. Miss Panney thought so, too, and she managed to leave them together, while she went with Miriam to get pen and paper with which to write a note to Molly Tooney.
"Molly cannot read," said the old lady, "but if Mike will take that to her, she will come to you and stay as long as you like," and then she went on to talk about the woman until she thought that Ralph and Dora had had about five minutes together, which she considered enough.
"You must both come and see me," cried Miss Bannister, as, leaning from the phaeton, she stretched out her hand to Miriam.
"Indeed we shall do so," said Ralph, and as his sister relinquished the hand of the visitor he took it himself.
Miss Panney was not one of those drivers who start off with a jerk. Had she been such a one, Miss Bannister might have been pulled against the side of the phaeton, for the grasp was cordial.
CHAPTER XVIII
BLARNEY FLUFF
About three o'clock that afternoon, La Fleur, Mrs. Tolbridge's cook, sat in the middle of her very pleasant kitchen, composing the dinner. Had she been the chef of a princely mansion, she could not have given the subject more earnest nor intelligent consideration. It is true the materials at hand were not those from which a dinner for princes would have been prepared. But what she had was sufficient for the occasion, and this repast for a country gentleman in moderate circumstances and his wife was planned with conscientiousness as well as skill. From the first she had known very well that it would be fatal to her pretensions to prepare for the Tolbridges an expensive and luxurious meal, but she had determined that they should never sit down to any but a good one.
Her soup had been determined upon and was off her mind, and she had prepared that morning, from some residuary viands, which would have been wasted had she not used them in this way, the little entree which was to follow. Her filet, which the butcher had that morning declared he never separated from the contiguous portions for any one, but had very soon afterward cut out for her, lay in the refrigerator, awaiting her pleasure and convenience. The vegetables had been chosen, and her thoughts were now intent upon a "sweet" which should harmonize with the other courses.
On a chair, by the door opening into the garden, sat George, the doctor's man, who was coachman, groom, and gardener, and who, having picked a basket of peas, had been requested to shell them. By an open window, Amanda, the chambermaid, was extracting the stones from a little dish of olives.