“No,” she said, “there is to be nothing more, unless you will take a little tea.”

Miss Panney pushed back her chair and looked at her hostess.  “Tea after a meal like that!  I should think not.  If you had had champagne during the luncheon, and coffee afterwards, I shouldn’t have been surprised.”

“I did not order coffee,” said Mrs. Tolbridge, “because we don’t take it in the middle of the day, but—­”

“You ordered quite enough,” said her visitor, severely; “and I will say this for Kipper, that he never got up a better meal, although—­”

“Kipper!” interrupted Mrs. Tolbridge.  “Kipper had nothing to do with this luncheon.  It was prepared by my new cook.  It is the first meal she has given us, and I am so sorry the doctor could not be here to eat it.”

Miss Panney rose from her chair, and gazed earnestly at Mrs. Tolbridge.

“What cook?” she asked, in her deepest tones.

“Jane La Fleur,” was the reply; “the woman you urged me to write to.  I sent the letter that afternoon.  Yesterday she came to see me, and I engaged her.  And while we were at breakfast this morning, she arrived with her boxes, and went to work.”

“And she cooked that meal?  She herself made all those things?”

“Yes,” said Mrs. Tolbridge, “she even churned the butter and made the biscuit.  She says she is going to do a great deal better than this when she gets things in order.”

“Better than this!” ejaculated Miss Panney.  “Do you mean to say, Kitty Tolbridge, that this sort of thing is going to happen three times a day?  What have you done?  What sort of a creature is she?  Tell me all about it this very minute.”

Mrs. Tolbridge led the way to the parlor, and the two sat down.

“Now,” said the doctor’s wife, “suppose you finish what you were saying about the Methodist church, then—­”

Miss Panney stamped her foot.

“Don’t mention them!” she cried.  “Let them build tower on tower, spire on spire, crypts, picture galleries, altars, confessionals, if they like.  Tell me about your new cook.”

“It will take a long time to tell you all about her, at least all she told me,” said Mrs. Tolbridge, “for she talked to me more than an hour this morning, working away all the time.  Her name is Jane La Fleur, but she does not wish any one to call her Jane.  She would like the family to use her last name, and the servants can do the same, or call her ‘madam.’  She is the widow of two chefs, one a Florentine, named Tolati, and the other a Frenchman, La Fleur.  She acted as ‘second’ to each of these, and in that way has thoroughly learned the art of Italian cooking, as well as the French methods.  She herself is English, and she has told me about some of the great families she and her husbands lived with.”

“Kitty,” said Miss Panney, “I should think she was trying to impose upon you with a made-up story; but after that luncheon I will believe anything she says about her opportunities.  How in the world did you get such a woman to come to you?”