“How you do make me jump with your sudden announcements,” she said.  “I am sure I am very glad that Dora is going away.  She needed a change, and sea air is better than anything else for her.  How long will they stay?”

The slight trace of her old cordiality which showed itself in Miss Panney’s demeanor through the few remaining minutes of the interview greatly pleased Dr. Tolbridge.

“She is a good old woman at heart,” he said to himself, “and when she gets into one of her bad tempers, the best way to bring her around is to interest her in people she loves, and Dora Bannister is surely one of those.”

When the doctor had gone, Miss Panney gave herself up to a half minute of unrestrained laughter, which greatly surprised old Mr. Witton, who happened to be passing the parlor door.  Then she sat down to write a letter to Dora Bannister, which she intended that young lady to receive soon after her arrival at Barport.

That afternoon the good La Fleur came to Cobhurst, her soul enlivened by the determination to show what admirable meals could be prepared from the most simple materials, and with the prospect of spending a fortnight with Mrs. Drane and Cicely, and with that noble gentleman, the master of the estate, and to pass these weeks in the country.  She was a great lover of things rural:  she liked to see, pecking and scratching, the fowls with which she prepared such dainty dishes.  In her earlier days, the sight of an old hen wandering near a bed of celery, with a bed of beets in the middle distance, had suggested the salad for which she afterwards became somewhat famous.

She knew a great deal about garden vegetables, and had been heard to remark that brains were as necessary in the culling of fruits and roots and leaves and stems as for their culinary transformation into attractions for the connoisseur’s palate.  She was glad, too, to have the opportunity of an occasional chat with that intelligent negro Mike, and so far as she could judge, there were no objections to the presence of Miriam in the house.

Ralph did not come back until after La Fleur had arrived, and he returned hungry, and a little more out of humor than when he started away.

“I had hoped,” he said to Miriam, “to get enough birds to give the new cook a chance of showing her skill in preparing a dish of game for dinner; but these two, which I may say I accidentally shot, are all I brought.  It is impossible to shoot without a dog, and I think I shall go to-morrow morning to see Miss Bannister and ask her to let me take Congo home with me.  He will soon learn to know me, and the woodcock season does not last forever.”

“But Dora will not be at home,” said Miriam; “she goes to Barport to-day with the Tolbridges.”

Ralph opened his mouth to speak, and then he shut it again.  It was of no use to say anything, and he contented himself with a sigh as he went to the rack to put up his gun.  Miriam sighed, too, and as she did so, she hoped that it was the dog and not Dora that Ralph was sighing about.