She was as calm, as unconsciously regal, as she had been on the train.  I knew, however, that she was not as indifferent to Dicky’s open admiration as she appeared.  The slightest heightening of the color in her cheek, a quickly-veiled flash of her eyes in his direction—­these things I noticed in the short time she was in the room with us.

Was Dicky too absorbed in his plan or his drawings to see what I had seen?  His words appeared to indicate that he was.

“Gee!” He drew a long breath as we heard Miss Draper—­the name I had heard the ’bus driver give her—­going down the stairs.  “If I get a chance to talk to her today I’m going to make her promise to save that rig to pose in.  She’s the exact image of what I want.  And graceful!  ‘Grace by name and grace by nature.’  The old saw certainly holds good in her case.”

I did not answer him.  As I laid aside my furs and removed my hat and coat I felt a distinct sinking of the heart.  I knew it was foolish, but the presence of this girl in whom Dicky displayed such interest took all the pleasure out of the day’s outing.

“This is what I call eating,” said Dicky as he helped himself to a second portion of the steaming chicken pie which Mrs. Gorman had placed before us.  The oysters and the delicious broiled fish which had formed the first two courses of our dinner had been removed by her sister a few moments before.

Dicky had not been so absorbed in his meal, however, as to miss any graceful movement of Miss Draper’s.  The admiring glances which he gave her as she served us with quick, deft motions were not lost upon me.  I knew that she was not oblivious of them either, although her manner was perfect in its calm, indifferent courtesy.

When it came time for dessert Mrs. Gorman bore the tray in on which it was served, a cherry roly-poly, covered with a steaming sauce.

“You’re in luck,” she said with a naive pride in her own culinary ability, as she served the pudding.  “I don’t often make this pudding, and my canned cherries from last summer are getting scarce.  But my sister came home unexpectedly this morning, and this pudding is one of her favorites.  So I made it for dinner.  I thought perhaps it would cheer her up.”

Miss Draper who entered at that moment with the coffee and a bit of English cheese that looked particularly appetizing, appeared distinctly annoyed at her sister’s reference to her.  Her cheeks flushed, and her eyes flashed a warning glance at Mrs. Gorman.

“I am sure this pudding would cheer anybody up,” said Dicky genially, attacking his.

“It is delicious,” I said, and, indeed, it was.  “I have tasted nothing like this since I was a child in the country.”

Mrs. Gorman beamed at the praise.  She evidently was a hospitable soul.

“Would you like the recipe for it?” she asked.

“Indeed she would,” Dicky struck in.  “If you can teach Katie to make this,” he turned to me, “I’ll stand treat to anything you wish.”