Jenifer was combining into a stuffing bread crumbs, chopped broiled oysters, onions, and many other mysterious ingredients, and was becoming irritated at such evident doubt of his abilities.
Peter ought to have been satisfied, but he only looked worried. He glanced round the little closet that served as a kitchen, in search of possible sources for slips, but did not see them. All he was able to say was, “That broth smells very nice, Jenifer.”
“Yissah. Dar ain’t nuffin in dat sup buh a quart a thick cream, and de squeezin’s of a hunerd clams, sah. Dat sup will make de angels sorry dey died. Dey’ll just tink you’se dreful unkine not to offer dem a secon’ help. Buh doan yo’ do it, sah, foh when dey gits to dem prayhens, dey’ll be pow’ful glad yo’ didn’t.” To himself, Jenifer remarked: “Who he gwine hab dis day? He neber so anxious befoh, not even when de Presidint an Guv’nor Pohter dey dun dine hyah.”
Peter went to his room and, after a due course of clubbing and tubbing, dressed himself with the utmost care. Truth compels the confession that he looked in his glass for some minutes. Not, however, apparently with much pleasure, for an anxious look came into his face, and he remarked aloud, as he turned away, “I don’t look so old, but I once heard Watts say that I should never take a prize for my looks, and he was right. I wonder if she cares for handsome men?”
Peter forgot his worry in the opening of a box in the dining-room and the taking out of the flowers. He placed the bunches at the different places, raising one of the bouquets of violets to his lips, before he laid it down. Then he took the cut flowers, and smilax, and spread them loosely in the centre of the little table, which otherwise had nothing on it, except the furnishings placed at each seat. After that he again kissed a bunch of violets. History doesn’t state whether it was the same bunch. Peter must have been very fond of flowers!
“Peter,” called a voice.
“Is that you, Le Grand? Go right into my room.”
“I’ve done that already. You see I feel at home. How are you?” he continued, as Peter joined him in the study.
“As always.”
“I thought I would run in early, so as to have a bit of you before the rest. Peter, here’s a letter from Muller. He’s got that ‘Descent’ in its first state, in the most brilliant condition. You had better get it, and trash your present impression. It has always looked cheap beside the rest.”