“Cousin Ted,” she remarked, as she came forward and perched herself on the arm of Theodora’s chair; “I have a bright idea.”

“Not really?” This from Billy.

“Yes, really.  Patrick is no use, and you can’t get anybody.  Borrow old Susan from The Savins.  She isn’t good for much but staple commodities, roast beef and things; but I’ll help her out.  I know something about cooking, not much, but better than nothing; and then I’ll serve it.”

“Cis, you sha’n’t.”

“I’d like no better fun.  Your man has never heard of me; you don’t know what a stunning maid I’d look in a cap and pinafore.  I always did love dressing up, and this will be such fun.  May’t I, please?”

She took Theodora by the chin and turned her face upward; and Theodora as she looked into the merry eyes above her, weakly gave her consent.  It was not easy to face a domestic crisis; it was still less easy to face Cicely when her dimples were coming and going and her eyes as full of fun as they were now.

“Allyn,” Cicely said breathlessly, as she dashed into the library at The Savins, half an hour later; “you are invited to a dinner party at our house, this day week.”

“Thanks.  I’ll come, and please have lots of sticky jelly things.”

“But you aren’t invited to eat.  I want you in the kitchen to help me.”

“Not much!  I’m going somewhere else, that night.”

“You can’t beg off.  I must have you to help me navigate things to the table.  I have agreed to act as assistant cook and head waitress, and I want you as second butler.”  And she unfolded the details of her plan.

Late one afternoon, a week afterwards, a trim maid in cap and apron was peering out from between the curtains of Mrs. Farrington’s front window.  Allyn was beside her, and both the young faces wore an air of merry mystery, while there was an evident good-fellowship between them that was out of all harmony with their seeming difference in social rank.

“Oh, Allyn, say a prayer for the success of the salad!” the maid said wearily, as she settled her cap and pulled out the great bows of her apron strings.

“’Twill be all right.  I sampled the dressing, as I came in.  Isn’t it time they were here?”

“Unless the train is late.  Poor Cousin Ted!  She has worked all the morning.  I do hope things will be good.”

“Cis!”

“Yes, Cousin Will.”

“Do you happen to know where Ted keeps her keys?  I want to get something out of that box of old trumpery of mine in the attic, and the thing is locked.”

“I’ll see if I can find them.”  And Cicely vanished, followed by a cry from Allyn,—­

“Here they are, Cis, and here he is!  Great Caesar, what a pelican of the wilderness!  Poor Ted!  She can’t live up to such a man.”