“Oh, dear,” said Dora, suddenly starting.  “I have ever so much to do this morning, and it must be nearly noon.  I wonder what made that queer Miss Panney think of giving me this corkscrew.”

Ralph knew very well that the old lady meant the little implement as a figurative auxiliary of consolation, but he merely remarked that Miss Panney did and gave very queer things.  He opened the door for her, and she bade him good-by and went out.

She crossed the street, and when on the opposite sidewalk, she turned her luminous eyes back upon the glass doors she had passed through.

But there was no one looking out after her.  Ralph was standing at the counter, buying nails.

CHAPTER XLIV

LA FLEUR’S SOUL REVELS, AND MISS PANNEY PREPARES TO MAKE A FIRE

Cobhurst never looked more lovely than in the early June of the following year.  With the beauty of the trees, the grass, the flowers, the vines, and all things natural, it possessed the added attractiveness of a certain personal equation.  To all the happy dwellers therein, the dear old house appeared like one in which good people had always lived.  Although they used to think that it was as charming as could be, they now perceived that the old mansion and all its surroundings had shown strong evidences of that system of management which Mike called ramshackle.  No one said a word against any of the changes that Ralph had made, for in spite of them Cobhurst was still Cobhurst.

On a bench under a tree by the side of the house sat La Fleur, shelling some early spring peas, a tin basin of which she held in her lap.  Mrs. Drane, in a rustic chair near by, was sewing, and Miriam, who had come laden with blossoms from the orchard, had stopped in the pleasant shade.  Mike, absolutely picturesque in a broad new straw hat, was out in the sunshine raking some grass he had cut, and Seraphina, who remained in the household as general assistant, could be seen through the open window of the kitchen.

“As I told you before, madam,” said La Fleur, “I don’t think you need feel the least fear about the young horses.  Their master has a steady hand, and they know his voice, and as for Mrs. Haverley, she’s no more afraid of them than if they were two sheep.  As they drove off this afternoon, I had a feeling as if I were living with some of those great families in the old country in whose service I have been.  For, said I to myself, ’Here is the young master of the house, actually going to drive out with his handsome wife and his spirited horses, and that in the very middle of the working day, and without the prospect of making a penny of profit.’  You don’t see that often in this country, except, perhaps, among the very, very rich who don’t have to work.  But it is a good sign when a gentleman like Mr. Haverley sets such an upper-toned example to his fellow young men.