"That fool thinks she made this world," said Seraphina. "I've been thinkin' she had some notion like dat. She do put on such a'rs."
"Git out," said Mike. "You never heard her say nothing like that."
"I didn't hear all she said," replied the colored woman, "but I heard more'n 'nough, an' I heard her talkin' about her creation. Her creation indeed! I'll let her know one thing; she didn't make me."
"Now look a here, Seraphiny," said Mike; "the more you shet up now, now you's in the prime of life, the gooder you'll feel when you gits old. An' so long as Mrs. Flower makes them thar three-inch-deep pies for me, I don't care who she thinks she made, an' who she thinks she didn't make. Thar now, that's my opinion."
* * * * *
The Investiture Luncheon, at which the Tolbridges and Miss Panney were present, was truly a grand and beautiful affair, to which Dora would certainly have been invited had she not been absent on her bridal trip with Mr. Ames. Seldom had La Fleur or either of her husbands prepared for prince, ambassador, or titled gourmand a meal which better satisfied the loftiest outreaches of the soul in the truest interests of the palate.
Cicely appeared in the teaberry gown, and if the spirit of Judith Pacewalk hovered o'er the scene, and allowed its gaze to wander from the charming bride, over the happy faces of the rest of the company, to the half-open door of the dining-room, where shone the radiant face of the proudest cook in the world, it must have been as well satisfied with the fate of the pink garment as it could possibly expect to be.
It was late in the afternoon when the luncheon party broke up, and although Miss Panney was the last guest to leave, she did not go home, but drove herself to Thorbury, and tied her roan mare in front of the office of Mr. Herbert Bannister. When the young lawyer looked up and perceived his visitor, he heaved a sigh, for he had expected in a few moments to lock up his desk, and stop, on his way home, at the house of his lady love. But the presence of Miss Panney at his office meant business, and business with her meant a protracted session. Miss Panney did not notice the sigh, and if she had, it would not have affected her. Her soul had been satisfied this day, and no trifle could disturb her serenity.
"Now what I want," said she, after a good deal of prefatory remark, "is for you to give me my will. I want to alter it."
"But, madam," said young Bannister, when he had heard the alterations desired by Miss Panney, "is not this a little quixotic? Excuse me for saying so. Mr. Haverley is not even related to you, and you are bestowing upon him—"