d will, could not do, not being allowed to cross certain
thresholds--that we should sorely miss Azalea's music when she should go
away next week.

The Gay Lady and I managed luncheon with very little exertion, we had so
much assistance. Dinner cost us rather more trouble, for Cook's dinners
are always delicious, and we could not have a falling off under our
regime. But it was a great success, and our men praised us until we felt
our labours fully repaid. Still, we were a trifle fatigued at the end of
the day. Cook had needed a good deal of waiting upon, and though the Gay
Lady had insisted on sharing this service with me it had required many
steps and the exercise of some tact--Cook having been fully persuaded
all day that her end was near.

"I have told her six times that people don't die of lumbago," said the
Gay Lady, "but her tears flow just as copiously as ever. I've written
three letters to her friends for her. To-morrow I suppose I shall have
to write her last will and testament."

* * * * *

But on the morrow Cook was enough better to be able to indite her own
documents, though as yet unable to come downstairs. It was well that she
did not require much of our time, however, for just before noon a party
of touring motorists drove up to our door and precipitated themselves
upon us with warm greetings--and hungry looks toward our dining-room.

"Smoke and ashes!" cried the Skeptic, under his breath, appearing in the
kitchen, whither the Gay Lady and I had betaken ourselves as soon as we
had furnished our guests with soap and water and clothes-brushes, and
left them to remove as much of the dust of the road from their persons
as could be done without a full bath--"why didn't you send them on to
the village inn? Of all the nerve!--and you don't know any of them
intimately, do you?"

I shook my head. "One of them was my dearest enemy in school-days," I
admitted, "and I never saw but one of the others. Never mind. Do you
suppose you could saddle Skylark and post over to town for some
beefsteak? I've sent Lad to the neighbours for other things. Beefsteak
is what they must have--porterhouse--since I've not enough broilers in
the ice-box to go around that hungry company."

"Sure thing," and the Skeptic was off. But he came back to say in my
ear: "See here, why doesn't Miss Azalea come out and help? She's just
sitting on the porch, looking pretty."

"Somebody ought to play hostess, si