“She said,” repeated La Fleur.  “Who?”

“That old Miss Panney!” said Phoebe, with a snap.  “She sent me out here to look after Mike, an’ was too stingy even to pay my hack fare.  She wanted me to come day before yesterday, but I couldn’t get away ’til to-day.”

“Where is Miss Panney?” asked La Fleur, quickly.

“She’s gone to the seashore, where the Bannisters an’ Miss Miriam is.  She said she’d come here herself if it hadn’t been for goin’ thar.”

“To look after Mike?” asked the other.

“Not ’zactly,” said Phoebe, with a grin.  “There’s other things here she wanted to look after.”

“Upon my word!” exclaimed La Fleur, “I can’t imagine what there is on this place that Miss Panney need concern herself about.”

“There isn’t no place,” said Phoebe, “where there isn’t somethin’ that Miss Panney wants to consarn herself in.”

La Fleur looked at Phoebe, and then dropped the subject.

“Don’t you want a cup of tea?” she asked, a glow of hospitality suddenly appearing on her face.  “That will set you up sooner than anything else, and perhaps I can find a piece of one of those meat pies your husband likes so much.”

Phoebe was not accustomed to being waited upon by white people, and to have a repast prepared for her by this cook of high degree flattered her vanity and wonderfully pleased her.  Her soul warmed toward the good woman who was warming and cheering her body.

“I say it again,” remarked La Fleur, “that I cannot think what that old lady should want to look after in this house.”

“Now look here, madam,” said Phoebe, “it’s jes’ nothin’ at all.  It’s jes’ the most nonsensical thing that ever was.  I don’t mind tellin’ you about it; don’t mind it a bit.  She wants Mr. Hav’ley to marry Miss Dora Bannister, an’ she’s on pins an’ needles to know if the young woman here is likely to ketch him.  That’s all there is ’bout it.  She don’t care two snaps for Mike, an’ I reckon he don’t want no looking after anyway.”

“No, indeed,” answered the other; “I take the best of care of him.  Miss Panney must be dreadful afraid of our young lady, eh?”

“That’s jes’ what she is,” said Phoebe.  “I wonder she didn’t take Mr. Hav’ley along with her when she went to the seashore.”

La Fleur’s eyes sparkled.

“Now come, Phoebe,” said she; “what on earth did she want you to do here?”

Phoebe took a long draught of tea, and put down the cup, with a sigh of content.

“Oh, nothin’,” said she.  “She jes’ wanted me to spy round, an’ see if Mr. Hav’ley an’ Miss Drane was fallin’ in love with each other, an’ then I was to go an’ tell her about it the mornin’ before she started.  Now I’ll have to keep it ’til she comes back, but I reckon thar ain’t nothin’ to tell about.”

La Fleur laughed.  “Nothing at all,” said she.  “You might stay here a week and you wouldn’t see any lovemaking between those two.  They don’t as much as think of such a thing.  So you need not put yourself to any trouble about that part of Miss Panney’s errand.  Here comes your good Michael, and I think you will find that he is doing very well.”