rane's mind had already been slightly disturbed on this subject,
but Miss Panney had revived and greatly increased the disturbance.

CHAPTER XXX

A CONFIDENTIAL ANNOUNCEMENT

Having finished her visit of ceremony, Miss Panney asked permission of
Miriam to see Molly Tooney. That woman was, in a measure, her protege,
and she had some little business with her. Declining to have the cook
sent for, Miss Panney descended to the kitchen.

She had not talked with Molly more than five minutes, and had not
approached the real subject of the interview, which concerned the social
relations between the Haverleys and the Dranes, when the Irishwoman
lifted up her hands, and opened wide her eyes.

"The Saints an' the Sinners!" she exclaimed, "if here isn't that auld
drab of a sausage, that cook of the docther's, a comin' here again to
tell me how to cook for them Dranes. Bad luck to them, they don't pay me
nothin', an' only give me trouble."

Miss Panney turned quickly, and through the window she saw La Fleur
approaching the kitchen door.

"She comes here to tell you how to cook for those people?" said Miss
Panney, quickly.

"Indade she does, an' it's none of her business, nather, the meddlin'
auld porpoise."

"Molly," said Miss Panney, "go away and leave me here. I want to talk to
this woman."

"Which is more than I do," said the cook, and straightway departed to the
floor above.

La Fleur had come to see Mrs. Drane, but perceiving Miss Panney's phaeton
at the door, she had concluded that there was company in the house, and
had consequently betaken herself to the kitchen to make inquiries. When
she found there Miss Panney, instead of Molly Tooney, La Fleur was
surprised, but pleased, for she remembered the old lady as one who
appreciated good cookery and a good cook.

"How do you do, La Fleur," said Miss Panney. "I am glad to see you. I
suppose you still keep up your old interest in Mrs. Drane and her
daughter. Do you often find time to come out here to see them?"

"Not often, madam, but sometimes. I can always find time for what I
really want to do. If I like to be away for an hour or two, I'll sit up
late the night before, long after midnight sometimes, planning the meals
and the courses for the next day, and when I go away, I leave everything
so that I can take it right up, the minute I get back, and lose nothing
in time or in any other way."

"It is only a born chef who could do that," said Miss Panney, "