There was something in the blue eyes which compelled obedience, and the dessert progressed without another word of remonstrance.  But when the door bell rang, and word came down that there were ladies in the parlor—­Juno with some one else—­Phillips would not tell her of the flour on her hair; and as Katy, after casting aside her apron and putting down her sleeves, only glanced hastily at herself in the hall mirror as she passed it, she appeared in the parlor with this mark upon her curls, and greatly to her astonishment was presented to “Mrs. Sybil Grandon,” Juno explaining, that as Sybil was very anxious to see her, and they were passing the house, she had presumed upon her privilege as a sister and brought her in.

For a moment the room turned dark, and Katy felt that she was falling; it was so sudden, so unexpected, and she so unprepared; but Sybil’s familiar manner soon quieted her, and she was able at last to look fully at her visitor, finding her not as handsome as she expected, nor as young but in all other points she had not perhaps been exaggerated.  Cultivated and self-possessed, she was still very pleasing in her manner, making Katy feel wholly at ease by a few well-timed compliments, which had the merit of seeming genuine, so perfect was she in the art of deception, practicing it with so much skill that few saw through the mask, and knew it was put on.

To Katy she was very gracious, admiring her house, admiring herself, admiring everything, until Katy wondered how she could ever have dreaded to meet her, laughing and chatting as familiarly as if the fashionable woman were not criticising every movement and every act and every feature of her face, wondering most at the flour upon her hair!

Juno wondered, too, but knowing Katy’s domestic propensities, suspected the truth, and feigning some errand with Phillips, she excused herself for a moment and descended to the kitchen, where she was not long in hearing about Katy’s queer ways, coming where she was not needed, and making country puddings after some heathenish aunt’s rule.

“Was it Aunt Betsy?” Juno asked, her face betokening its disgust when told that she was right, and her manner on her return to the parlor very frigid toward Katy, who had discovered the flour on her hair, and was laughing merrily over it, telling Sybil how it happened—­how cross Phillips was—­and lastly, how “our folks” often made the pudding, and that was why she wished to surprise Wilford with it.

There was a sarcastic smile upon Sybil’s lip as she wished Mrs. Cameron success and then departed, leaving Katy to finish the dessert, which, when ready for the table, was certainly very inviting, and would have tempted the appetite of any man who had not been listener to matters not wholly conducive to his peace of mind.