“Doctor, it is the custom at Wyanoke to dine at four o’clock. Shall I have dinner served at that hour, or do you wish it changed?”
The young man declared his wish that the traditions of the house should be preserved, adding playfully—“I doubt if you could change the dinner hour, Miss Dorothy, even if we all desired it so. I remember Aunt Kizzey, the cook, and I for one should hesitate to oppose my will to her conservatism.”
“Oh, as to that,” answered the girl, “I never have any trouble managing the servants. They know me too well for that.”
“What could you do if you told Kizzey to serve dinner at three and she refused?” asked the young man, really curious to hear the answer.
“I would send for Aunt Kizzey to come to me. Then I would look at her. After that she would do as I bade her.”
“I verily believe she would,” said the young man to himself as he went to the sideboard and filled one of the long stemmed pipes. “But I really cannot understand why.”
He had scarcely finished his pipe when Dorothy came into the hall accompanied by a negro girl of about fourteen years, who bore a work basket with her. Seating herself, Dorothy gave the girl some instruction concerning the knitting she had been doing, and added: “You may sit in the back porch to-day. It is warm.”
“Is it too warm, Miss Dorothy, for you to make a little excursion with me to the stables?”
“Certainly not,” she quickly answered. “I’ll go at once.”
“Thank you,” he said, “and we’ll stop in the orchard on our way back and get some June apples. I remember where the trees are.”