Mr. Hampton, the Methodist, who was a pedestrian, walked out to Cobhurst one day, but as neither the brother or sister could be found, he good-humoredly resolved to postpone a future call until cooler weather.

Lately, when a lady had called, it happened that there had been no one to receive her but Mrs. Drane; and although there could be no doubt that that lady performed the duties of hostess most admirably, Miriam resolved that that thing should never happen again.  She did not wish the people to think that there was a regent in rule at Cobhurst, and she now determined to make it a point to be within call during ordinary visiting hours.  Or, if she felt strongly moved to a late afternoon ramble, she would invite the other ladies to accompany her.  She still wore her hair down her back, and her dresses did not quite touch the tops of her boots, and it was therefore necessary to be careful in regard to her prerogatives as mistress of the house.

Early one afternoon, much sooner than there was reason to expect visitors, a carriage came in at the Cobhurst gate, driven by our friend Andy Griffing.  Miriam happened to be at a front window, and regarded with some surprise the shabby equipage.  It came with a flourish to the front of the house, and stopped.  But instead of alighting, its occupant seemed to be expostulating with the driver.  Andy shook his head a great deal, but finally drove round at the back, when an elderly woman got out, and came to the hall door.  Miriam, who supposed, of course, that she would be wanted, was there to meet her, and there was no necessity for ringing or knocking.

“My name,” said the visitor, “is La Fleur, if you please.  I came to see Mrs. Drane and Miss Drane, if you please.  Thank you very much, I will come in.  I will wait here, or, if you will be so good as to tell me where I can find Mrs. Drane, I will go to her.  I used to live with her:  I was her cook.”

Miriam had been gazing with much interest on the puffy face and shawl-enwrapped body of the old woman who addressed her with a smiling obsequiousness to which she was not at all accustomed.

The thought struck her that with servants like this woman, it would be easy to feel herself a mistress.  She had heard from the Dranes a great deal about their famous cook, and she was glad of the opportunity to look upon this learned professor of kitchen lore.

“What would she have said to my tall raspberry tarts?” involuntarily thought the girl.

But it was when La Fleur had gone to Mrs. Drane’s room, and Cicely, wildly delighted when informed who had come to see them, had run to meet the dear old woman, that Miriam pondered most seriously upon this visit from a cook.  She had not known anything of the ties between families and old family servants.  At school, servants had been no more than machines; she was nothing to them, and they were nothing to her; and now she felt that the ignorance of these ties