“Who can that be!” exclaimed La Fleur.  “Come in.”

The door opened, and Miss Panney entered the kitchen.  La Fleur rose from her seat, and for a moment the two elderly women stood and looked at each other.

“And this is La Fleur,” said Miss Panney; “Mrs. Tolbridge has been talking about you, and I asked her to let me come in and see you.  I want to speak to you for a few minutes, and I will sit down here.  Don’t you stand up.”

La Fleur liked people to come and talk to her, provided they were the right sort of people, and came in the right way.  Miss Panney’s salutation pleased her; she had a respect for people who showed a proper recognition of differences of position.  If Miss Panney had been brought into the kitchen by Mrs. Tolbridge and in a manner introduced to La Fleur, the latter would have regarded her as something of an equal, and would not have respected her.  Had the old lady accosted her in a supercilious manner, La Fleur would have disliked her, even if she had supposed she were a person to be respected.  But Miss Panney had filled all the requirements necessary for the cook’s favorable opinion.  In the few words she had spoken, she had shown that she was a friend of the mistress of the house; that she had heard interesting things of the cook, and therefore wished to see her; that she knew this cook was a woman of sense, who understood what was befitting to her position, and would therefore stand when talking to a lady, and, moreover, in consequence of the fact that this cook was superior to her class, she would waive the privileges of her class, and request the cook to sit, while talking to her.  To have waived this privilege without first indicating that she knew La Fleur would acknowledge her possession of it, would have been damaging to Miss Panney.

Upon the features of La Fleur, which were inclined to be bulbous, there now appeared a smile, which was very different from that with which she encouraged and soothed her conscripted assistants.  It was a smile that showed that she was pleasurably honored, and it was accompanied by a slight bow and a downward glance.  Then turning to the man and the maid, she told them in a low voice that they might go, a permission of which they instantly availed themselves.

Miss Panney now sat down, and La Fleur, pushing her chair a little away from the table, availed herself of the permission to do likewise.

“I have eaten some of your cooking, La Fleur,” said Miss Panney, “and I liked it so much that I wished to ask you something about it.  For one thing, where did you get that recipe for that delicious ice, flavored with raspberry?”

The cook smiled with a new smile—­one of genuine pleasure.

“To make that ice,” she answered, “one must have more than a recipe:  one must be educated.  Tolati, my first husband, invented that ice, and no chef in Europe could make it but himself.  But he taught me, and I make it for Dr. and Mrs. Tolbridge.  It has a quality of cream, though there is no cream in it.”