The hand of the maid as she changed his plate at once interested Deering. It was a slender, supple, well-kept hand, browned by the sun. Her maid’s dress was becoming; her cap merely served to invite attention to her golden-brown hair. Her coloring left nothing for the heart to desire, and her brown eyes called immediately for a second glance. She was deft and quick; her graceful walk in itself compelled admiration. As the door closed upon her, Hood bent a look of inquiry upon his brooding companion.
“Perhaps she’s the adorable—the true, authentic Pierrette,” he suggested.
Deering shook his head.
“No; the other girl was not so tall and her voice was different; it was wonderfully sweet and full of laughter. I couldn’t be fooled about it.”
“There’s mystery here—a game of some kind. Mark the swish of silken skirts; unless my eyes fail me, I caught a glimpse of silken hose as she flitted into the pantry.”
When an omelet had been served and the coffee poured (she poured coffee charmingly!) Hood called her back as she was about to leave them.
“Two men should never be allowed to eat alone. If your mistress is not returning at once, will you not do us the honor to sit down with us?”
“Thank you, sir,” she said, biting her lip to conceal a smile.
Deering was on his feet at once and drew out the third chair, which she accepted without debate. She composedly folded her arms on the edge of the table as though she were in nowise violating the rules set down for the guidance of waitresses. Hood, finding the situation to his taste, blithely assumed the lead in the conversation.
“It is perfectly proper for you to join us at table,” he remarked, “but formal introductions would not be in keeping. Still, your employer doubtless has some familiar name for you, and you might with propriety tell us what it is, so we won’t need to attract your attention by employing the vulgar ‘Say’ or ‘Listen’!”