“I am getting points from La Fleur, my dear,” she said, “cooking points,—­you ought to do that.  She can give you the most wonderful information about things you ought to know.  Now, La Fleur, as you want to see Mrs. Drane, and it is time I had started for home, it will be well for us to go upstairs and leave the kitchen to Molly Tooney.”

Miss Panney was half way up the stairs when La Fleur detained Miriam by a touch on the arm.

“I will give you all the points you want, my dear young lady,” she said.  “You have brains, and that is the great thing needful in overseeing cooking.  And I will come some day on purpose to tell you how the dishes that your brother likes, and you like, ought to be cooked to make them delicious, and you shall be able to tell any one how they should be done, and understand what is the matter with them if they are not done properly.  All this the lady of the house ought to know, and I can tell you anything you ask me, for there is nothing about cooking that I do not thoroughly understand; but I will not go upstairs now, and I will not detain you from your visitor.  I will take a turn in the grounds, and when the lady has gone, I will ask leave to speak with Mrs. Drane.”

With her head on one side, and her smile and her bow, La Fleur left the kitchen by the outer door.  She stepped quickly toward the barn, looking right and left as she walked.  She wished very much to see Mike, and presently she had that pleasure.  He had just come out of the barnyard, and was closing the gate.  She hurried toward him, for, although somewhat porpoise-built, she was vigorous and could walk fast.

“I am so pleased to see you, Michael,” she said.  “I have brought you something which I think you will like,” and, opening a black bag which she carried on her arm, she produced a package wrapped in brown paper.

“This,” she said, opening the wrapping, “is a pie—­a veal and ’am pie—­such as you would not be likely to find in this country, unless you got me to make it for you.  I baked it early this morning, intending to come here, and being sure you would like it; and you needn’t have any scruples about taking it.  I bought everything in it with my own money.  I always do that when I cook little dishes for people I like.”

The pie had been brought as a present for Mrs. Drane, but, feeling that it was highly necessary to propitiate the only person on the place who might be of use to her, La Fleur decided to give the pie to Mike.

The face of the colored man beamed with pleasure.

“Veal and ham.  Them two things ought to go together fust rate, though I’ve never eat ’em in that way.  An’ in a pie, too; that looks mighty good.  An’ how do ye eat it, Mrs.—­’scuse me, ma’am, but I never can rightly git hold of yer name.”

“No wonder, no wonder,” said the other; “it is a French name.  My second husband was a Frenchman.  A great cook, Michael,—­a Frenchman.  But the English of the name is flower, and you can call me Mrs. Flower.  You can surely remember that, Michael.”