When Ralph Haverley made up his mind to agree to anything, he did it with his whole soul, and if he had had any previous prejudices against it, he dismissed them; so as he sat at supper with the doctor and his sister he was very much amused at being waited upon by a woman in a pink sunbonnet.  That she should wear such a head-covering in the house was funny enough in itself, but the rest of her dress was also extremely odd, and she kept the front of her dark projecting bonnet turned downward or away, as if she had never served gentlemen before, and was very much overpowered by bashfulness.  But for all that she waited very well, and with a light quickness of movement unusual in a servant.

“I am afraid, doctor,” said Miriam, when the pink figure had gone downstairs to replenish the plate of rolls, “that you will miss your dinner.  I have heard that you have a most wonderful cook.”

“She is indeed a mistress of her art,” replied the doctor; “but you do very well here, I am sure.  That new cook of yours beats Phoebe utterly.  I know Phoebe’s cooking.”

“But you must not give her all the credit,” exclaimed Miriam; “I made that bread, although she shaped it into rolls.  And I helped with the beefsteak, the potatoes, and the coffee.”

“Which latter,” said Ralph, “is as strong as if six or seven women had made it, although it is very good.”

The meal went on until the two hungry men were satisfied, Miriam being so absorbed in Dora’s skilful management of herself that she scarcely thought about eating.  There was a place for the woman in pink, if she chose to take it, but she evidently did not wish to sit down.  Whenever she was not occupied in waiting upon those at the table, she bethought herself of some errand in the kitchen.

“Well,” said Ralph, “those rolls are made up so prettily, and look so tempting, that I wish I had not finished my supper.”

“You are right,” said the doctor, “they are aesthetic enough for La Fleur,” and then pushing back his chair a little, he looked steadfastly, with a slight smile on his face, at the figure, with bowed sunbonnet, which was standing on the other side of the table.

“Well, young woman,” he said, “how is your mind by this time?”

For a moment there was silence, and then from out of the sunbonnet there came, clearly and distinctly, the words:—­

“That is very well.  How is your kitten?”

At this interchange of remarks, Ralph sat up straight in his chair, amazement in his countenance, while Miriam, ready to burst into a roar of laughter, waited convulsively to see what would happen next.  Turning suddenly toward Ralph, Dora tore off her sunbonnet and dashed it to the floor.  Standing there with her dishevelled hair, her flushed cheeks, her sparkling eyes and her quaint gown, Ralph thought her the most beautiful creature he had ever gazed upon.

“How do you do, Mr. Haverley?” said Dora, advancing and extending her hand; “I know you are not willing to eat with cooks, but I do not believe you will object to shaking hands with one, now and then.”