"You're a--a--brick, Miss Doane."

Drusilla shook her finger at the girl.

"Young lady," she said severely, "I know where you got that. Dr.

Eaton."

Daphne's pretty face flushed and she put her cheek against the faded one.

"We must not talk of--of Dr. Eaton. Father doesn't allow it, and-- and Dr. Eaton thinks I'm only a flighty little girl, who is never serious, if he ever thinks of me at all--which I am afraid is not often--" She was quiet a moment, her hand resting against the soft white hair. "But--well, good night. I'll let you know when Mary will come, and then you can get into trouble right away."

Drusilla laughed.

"You trust me for carrying out that part of it. Good night, dear."

CHAPTER X

The following Wednesday Miss Doane received a message to the effect that Daphne and Mary Deane were going in to the matinee that day and would stop to see her on their return. She pa.s.sed the day wondering how she could legitimately get Mr. James Thornton to stop on his way home from the office; then Providence came to her aid, as it always did. James brought her word that the chef wished to speak to her.

"What does he want of me, James?"

James coughed discreetly.

"I think you had better see him, Miss Doane."

Drusilla looked at him sharply a moment.

"Well, send him here," she said.

The chef came into the room. She looked at the fat, mustached Frenchman for a moment before she spoke.

"What do you want to see me about, cook?"

The chef drew himself up.

"I wish to pay my compliments to Madame and say I can no longer serve her."

"You mean you want to quit?"

The Frenchman bowed.

"Madame comprehends."

"Speak English, cook. What did you say?"

"I said that Madame understands perfectly."

"Why do you want to leave?"

The Frenchman drew himself up tragically. "I can no longer serve Madame: it is not convenable to my dignity."

"What's hurtin' your dignity?"

"It is not for me to cook for a lot of babies, and--and--a n.i.g.g.e.r baby."

Drusilla looked at him silently for a moment.

"Um-um--I see," she said. "You don't think you ought to cook for babies. There ain't much cookin'; they're mostly milk fed now."

"There is the porridge in the morning, and the soft-boiled eggs, and --and--"

"Oh, you object to cookin' eggs and porridge. It ain't hard."

"It is not the deefeeculty; it is the disgrace. I am a great artist-- a chef--it hurts the soul of the artist to--"

"I don't want an artist in the kitchen. I want a cook. Artists paint picters; they don't boil potatoes. What do you mean?"

"You do not understand, Madame. I am an artist; I have cooked in the best houses."

"Ain't this a good house?"

"It was, Madame; and I was proud to serve you until the house was turned into an orphan asylum, a--a--home for children of the street, and--"

Drusilla flushed suddenly.

"That'll do, cook. I've heard all I want. Perhaps you're a great cook, but when you cook for me you'll cook for whoever is under my roof. And I want you to understand that this is not an orphan asylum.

These children are my visitors; and so long as they're in my house, they'll eat, and if you don't want to cook for them, well--you can cook for some one else. You can go, cook. Mr. Thornton'll give you your money."

And Drusilla sat down a very angry and ruffled Drusilla.

"Orphan asylum, indeed! He'll be callin' it a home next. What does anybody want with a man in the kitchen--especially a man who's got more hair under his nose than on his head!"

She was quiet for a while; then she laughed softly to herself.

"The Lord takes care of his own. Now I been wondering all day how to get that man here, and here's my chance. Jane, tell some one to telephone Mr. Thornton's brother to stop here on his way from the office. I want to speak to him particularly."

It was nearly six o'clock before the lawyer's motor stopped before Drusilla's door. When the lawyer came in Drusilla said to herself, "I don't blame his girl none. He's worse'n his brother;" but she turned smilingly to him.

"I'm afraid that I've called you in on business that'll seem mighty little to a man," she said; "but it's big to a woman. I'm changin'

cooks."

Mr. Thornton smiled.

"I don't see where you require my services--"

"Oh, yes, I do. You know the expenses of this house are kept up by the estate, and you pay all the servants. Now I don't like to send a cook away unless I tell you. But this cook's _goin'_ and he's goin'